


Time Meddler

by AnadoraBlack



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, F/M, Rose Granger-Weasley is the perfect mix between her parents, The 1920s are scarily different from the 2020s, Time-Turners suck, time-travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 104,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnadoraBlack/pseuds/AnadoraBlack
Summary: Rose Granger-Weasley is very content to work at the Home for Elderly Witches and Wizards, until she meets an old Tina Scamander. An old Tina who decides to use her to save a long-lost sister, without caring about sacrificing Rose's future and the world's past in the process...[Eventual Theseus/Rose]
Relationships: Newt Scamander & Rose Weasley, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Rose Weasley/Theseus Scamander, Tina Goldstein & Queenie Goldstein, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 30
Kudos: 159





	1. In which Rose Granger-Weasley loves her job...mostly

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people!  
> So, I've been writing this story long enough now that I have to force myself to post it so I finish it. XD  
> This will be an eventual Rose/Theseus story. I know that time-travel AUs have been overdone in this fandom, but I wanted to twist it a bit, sending a Next Gen character instead of, say, Hermione. ;)  
> Just a fair bit of warning though: Tina is not likeable AT ALL in the beginning; and Cursed Child is canon. Not that it plays a big part in this (it's mentioned once or twice tops), but if you are part of the haters, you've been warned.  
> And without further ado, let's head to Bath!

_September 2026_

* * *

Rose Granger-Weasley loved her job. It was a fact. She adored it, adored the people she cared for, adored the way they smiled up at her when she brought them tea. She loved every second of it, and would never have changed it for the world.

That is, until one particular resident appeared at the Home for Elderly Witches and Wizards she worked at.

Rose, at twenty-one years of age, was every bit the lovely witch her mother had once been, despite their slight differences in looks. Rose’s red-hair had recently been cropped in the latest Muggle fashion, making her look almost masculine, if it hadn’t been for the soft angles of her face. Her bright blue eyes were elegantly rimmed with brown kohl, making them stand out quite beautifully, and the Home’s uniform, consisting in a shirt and trousers of a pristine white, hid her appealing form to all.

She had decided to become a Healer quite early on, after discovering a strange affinity to Potions in her third year at Hogwarts. That and she thought it a good idea to counter her cousins’ dilly-dally with something more sensible and, mostly, useful whenever one of them injured themselves idiotically.

She had been stationed in the Home – situated in the lovely county of Devonshire, near Bath – for a year by then and, as stated before, she loved it.

* * *

That day, she had just arrived and made a mental note to not forget Mrs Morris’ deck of cards for her weekly game of whist, when her superior, Nurse Brierley, called her from her small office. “Nurse Weasley!”

Rose gritted her teeth. She was quite proud to bear _both_ her parents’ names, but apparently some people, including her superior, still took a sick pleasure in eluding her mother’s patronym. It bothered her to no end, but in recent years she had learnt to control her impulses. Especially those to yell at people and put them back in their places. A trait she had, surprisingly, gained from Scorpius.

She smiled to herself while making her way to the office. Thinking about him, still snoring on their couch after a night of heavy reading, always did that to her. Her affection for the Malfoy boy had never evolved from friendship, and he had eventually understood that, but they had still decided to rent a flat together in Kensington, an area of London, and it was probably one of the best decisions she had ever made.

“Yes, Nurse Brierley?”

The older woman was standing behind her desk, half-hunched over it as she checked some papers, not even raising her eyes to meet Rose’s. Which angered her too. She valued looking into people’s eyes when talking to them. “There’s to be a newcomer today. I trust you can prepare their room. Their belongings have already arrived and I hear you’re quite adequate at decorating.”

Rose pursed her lips. Yes, she liked decorating their new patients’ rooms, and she was good at it, but mocking her, which her boss was obviously doing with that particular tone of voice, did not quite sit with her. “And who am I to expect?”

The other woman raised her gaze – finally – upon hearing the slight venom in Rose’s voice. She did not comment on it, however, and merely gave a name. “Porpentina Scamander.”

Rose’s blue eyes widened. She was equally shocked and delighted. “Wife to the famous Newton Scamander?”

“ _Widow_ to the famous Newton Scamander, yes. Now off you go, there’s no time to lose, she’s expected at noon.”

* * *

Rose did go, a look of wonder on her face. Tina Scamander. Great-grand-mother to the twins, Lorcan and Lysander, to whom Albus was godfather. Both were thirteen by then, and Lorcan already displayed his parents’ interest in Care for Magical Creatures. To meet their famous relative, although one half of the power couple had died, was going to be extremely exciting.

Newton Scamander had sadly passed away two years prior, after 127 years of a full and adventurous life. The world had grieved him for weeks after word got out, but apparently, dear old Newt had ‘let go of life, as it had become quite boring over time’. He had even left a note, although he passed in his sleep of natural causes.

His wife, now widow, Tina, was as famous as he had been. Proficient Auror in both MACUSA and the Ministry for Magic, she had helped her husband find and save countless creatures, helping him make light of their abilities and combatting prejudices held onto those “dangerous” creatures.

Rose admired the work they both had done. And she longed to have a conversation with the woman who had, once upon a time, helped unmask Gellert Grindelwald when he roamed MACUSA free of suspicion.

* * *

Mrs Scamander’s suite was similar to all the others in the Home: it consisted in a parlour with a fireplace for family calls; a cosy bedroom; and a practical bathroom where elderly and fragile people could move around without fearing for their bones.

Several boxes had been placed in the middle of the parlour, and Rose rolled her sleeves up. She tugged her wand out of the holster at her hip and, after peeking inside the first box – cushions and plushy plaids mostly – she waved amply at the room, and the walls took on a lovely shade of blue reminiscent of the upholstery she then set out to place around. Each room in the Home already was complete with a sofa and two armchairs, a table with four chairs, and of course a four-poster bed, wardrobe and a chest of drawers. So Rose only had to decorate and make it more homely.

She smiled as she placed pictures on the mantelpiece: two of those were of twins Lorcan and Lysander, one more recent than the other, which depicted them as babies. Another was of Aunt Luna and Rolf’s wedding; and another still depicted the late Newt cradling his and Tina’s son Anthony. Rose had seen pictures of the famous magizoologist before, but had never seen him so young. He had been a redhead like her, and he looked so sheepish and awkward that his Hogwarts House was unmistakeable, even if it was notorious that he had been a Hufflepuff.

Once the parlour was ready – and much more homely – Rose set out to place Mrs Scamander’s clothes in her wardrobe and drawers, as well as placing the two cat-beds in the bedroom. She had been made aware that there would be two pets coming with the Home’s newest guest: two Kneazles, Hoppy and Milly. Luna had sent word that Mauler, the third one, had died a little after his owner.

It was a quarter-to-noon when she was done, and after placing her wand back at her hip and letting out a breath, Rose studied her handiwork with a smile. She thought that Mrs Scamander would like her new home very much.

* * *

Well, it appeared she was wrong.

Rose was introduced to her new resident the day after, and the least she could say was that despite her 125 years of age, Porpentina Scamander still had fire in her veins. She made it clear that she did not approve with her moving there, thinking she was still more than capable to take care of herself.

A fellow nurse had told Rose that their new care had refused to eat anything since her arrival, saying that the food they served was a ‘disgrace’ and that she’d make sure the Minister for Magic would hear about it. Seeing as said Minister was Rose’s mother, it was unlikely that her doleances remained unheard.

Rose herself was ‘welcomed’ with a dismissing wave and harsh words about how skinny she was and couldn’t obviously hold her own. But she refused to back away, and moved around the rooms, ignoring the old woman’s growls. She had had to cope with her fair share since becoming a nurse.

“Child, come here!” came the call on the second day. Rose was halfway through changing the towels in the bathroom, and hurried to the parlour, where Mrs Scamander was reading something, Kneazle Hoppy on her lap. Molly was nowhere to be seen, but then again, she had already been sighted more than once near the kitchens.

“Yes Mrs Scamander?”

“You’re a Weasley aren’t you? My grand-daughter-in-law told me she knew you!” Tina’s brown eyes were harsh and calculating as she watched Rose approach, and for some reason, it made the young woman uncomfortable.

“I am a Granger-Weasley, to be precise. And yes, I do know Luna. She’s my aunt’s best-friend.”

“Granger-Weasley, uh? Must be hard bearing those names… I know what that feels like!” she said with a snort, and slammed close the book she’d been holding. Rose then noticed it had been her husband’s first hit, ‘ _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ ’, an original copy by the look of it.

“I’m used to the stares that come with the name. It’s been a while now…” A while since the War, she meant, as it would soon be thirty years since her parents and uncle defeated a Dark Wizard.

“Yes, well, is it true that Time Turners are on sale again? Has your mother talked about that?”

Rose froze. The demand had been concise, to the point, and Tina’s eyes were once again hard, calculating. At that precise moment, Rose could see the former Auror in her. She’d seen it often enough in Uncle Harry’s gaze.

“My mother does not talk about her work. Besides, if Time Turners were being made once again, I’m sure it’d be confidential, and she’d talk about it even less.”

Tina tsked. “Shame. Well, if you hear about anything, tell me, child. I’m interested.”

“Why?” Rose asked almost against her better judgement. But she could not fathom why Mrs Scamander would be interested in Time Turners. After all, they were notoriously dangerous items, and Rose herself could remember the fiasco of her cousin Albus and Scorpius’ adventure a few years back.

“Never mind that. If you hear anything, tell me. Now go. I want to rest and your shuffling bothers me.” With a wave of her hand, the door slammed open, and Rose couldn’t help but start.

Tina Scamander could do wandless magic.

She was not to be trifled with…

* * *

When she got home that night, she stepped out of the fireplace with a great sigh, and kicked her shoes off none-too-gently. Coming from the kitchen was a very nice smell. Scorpius was cooking again.

“Bad day?” came his voice as he peeked around the door. If Draco Malfoy could see his son and heir right then, with a pink apron around his waist and flour on his nose, no doubt that he’d have a heart-attack.

Rose nodded and came into the kitchen, moaning when she smelled savoury crêpes. “She is a damn right crone.”

Scorp chuckled, knowing damn well who she was talking about. “Well sit your ass down. I’ve opened a bottle.” He served her a tall glass of French red – a guilty pleasure she got from her mother – and got back to his cooking.

“What about you?” Rose finally asked, a finger shamelessly dipping in the dough.

Scorpius swatted her hand away. “You know I can’t talk about what I do at work. You knowing I’m an Unspeakable-“

“-is bad enough, _I know_ ,” she said in a mocking sigh, “as if you didn’t say that every single day.”

“Well it’s about bloody time it computed, _Weasley_.”

“It’s _Granger-Weasley_ to you, _Ferret_.”

He chuckled and continued cooking.

* * *

Later that night, Rose was sitting in her jammies in front of a Muggle television – again, something she got from her mother – Albus and Scorpius next to her on the couch as they all watched their favourite series: something about a catastrophe that gave every single human different powers they needed to control.

“Mum said that Mrs Scamander used to be nice,” Albus said out of the blue. “I don’t see why she’s so mean to you.”

Scorp slapped his best-friend’s shoulder. “Don’t talk about work here, Albus. She’s going to snap.”

“Shut up, Ferret,” Rose said, sitting up and staring at her favourite cousin. “She asked me if I’d heard about Time Turners being made again.”

“Time Turners? Why would she want to know about that?” Albus asked while Scorpius froze. He didn’t blush or blanch, but he obviously was invested in the conversation.

So Rose stared at him when next she said “And most importantly, why is she so convinced that there still are some lying around?”

The young Malfoy shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t seen a Time Turner since…well…that time.” Albus looked away, as he always did when reminded of the time he had lost all sense.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rose said, “but still, it’s weird.”

“You got that right,” the boys said in the same beat. And they went back to their series.

* * *

The following day, Mrs Scamander was nicer to Rose than she had been from the beginning. Turns out the twins and their father Rolf were coming to visit later in the afternoon, and it was all she needed to turn from bitter old crone to lovely grandmother.

Still, as she moved about the room clearing everything that Tina had been using the previous night, and feeding the Kneazles who kept purring and pushing against her legs, Rose couldn’t stop wondering why on Earth she had been talking about Time Turners all of a sudden.

And she caught herself hoping that particular subject never came back during conversation…


	2. In which Porpentina Scamander is a bitch

_December 2026_

* * *

Time flew by and soon, a soft sheet of snow covered most of the country. Except, of course, the Home itself, which was too close to the sea. But even then, the Head Nurse made it compulsory that, each year, the gardens were enchanted and covered in fake but soft snow that didn’t freeze the toes and cushioned every fall.

Most of the residents were in the main hall helping to decorate the massive Christmas tree when Rose appeared for her shift, layered in scarves and thick wool to protect her from the chill. She wasn’t a winter person. She loved Christmas time, but as far as she was concerned, she’d rather spend it in the Southern Hemisphere each year until she died.

“Nurse Weasley!”

Rose sighed and unwrapped her scarf, plastering a fake smile on her lips. “Good day to you Nurse Bierley! What can I help you with?”

“Mrs Scamander has requested you be sent to her as soon as you arrived. She refused to be tended to by anyone else.”

Rose groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. And here she had been, looking forward to some tree-decorating with the joyful residents. And here she was, having to spend her afternoon with an old crone who’d no doubt play at making her lose her patience. “Great. I’m going right away.”

“And please look happier about it, Nurse Weasley!” said the older woman with a cruel smile. Rose didn’t even ingratiate her with an answer.

* * *

Mrs Scamander had been acting weirdly lately. The young redhead often found her muttering to herself, reciting some sort of list and scribbling on pieces of paper she hid from view as soon as she spotted her assigned nurse.

Sometimes, she was horrible to Rose. But, and it was most disturbing, sometimes, she was sickeningly sweet, asking her personal questions as if she was interested, like where she lived, with whom, and ‘Are you sure your mother hasn’t been talking about Time-Turners lately?’.

The young witch honestly didn’t know if her elderly patient was crazy, psychopathic, lost, or a mix of all three…

* * *

Tina was standing by the window when she arrived, Hoppy in her arms, muttering strange things such as ‘It’s today’, ‘Today is the day’ and other stupid sentences that didn’t make any sense. As far as Rose knew, the date was not a particular one. There weren’t any birthdays or anniversaries to be celebrated, so Mrs Scamander was surely in another one of her ‘crazy moods’, or so her direct neighbours had taken to call it. Some nurses too, if she was being perfectly honest.

“Ah, Rose, hello!” The red-haired nurse started almost at the warmth in the old woman’s tone, and she caught herself smiling.

“Good day, Mrs Scamander. Watching the snow fall?” Another trick for the Home: a permanent snow-fall from early December to late January. Most residents loved standing or sitting at the window watching it. It generally lifted spirits.

“Yes and no. I’ve been rummaging through my old things, today. I’ve found something I wanted to give you.”

Weirder and weirder still. Rose’s brow furrowed and she followed her patient who beckoned her into the bedroom, where, indeed, some clothes had been taken out of the massive chest at the foot of the bed – something that Tina had brought from her Dorset house when she arrived.

All of them were dresses, styled as if belonging to the roaring twenties. One was of a lovely shade of blue, with golden sequins and a gold-plated necklace and blue hat to match; another was sea-green with silver embroideries; and the last one was burgundy with golden details and a pair of gloves.

“Those are beautiful, Mrs Scamander, but why did you say you wanted to give them to me?”

Tina waved the question away. “Not all of them, child, just one. I’d like to see someone wearing clothes of my youth again, now that I’m too old.”

The reason was a genuine one, Rose supposed. Many residents at the Home liked to keep baubles of their youth and recall those times. Some used Pensieves to achieve that, but others enrolled their nurses to be reminded. She could remember one Christmas Eve in particular when Mister Elstree had taught her how to waltz. It had been lovely.

“Oh, I see,” she then said. She approached the bed and carefully touched each piece, smiling when they shimmered as if they were still in their prime days. Those outfits had been kept in pristine condition, she was impressed.

“I think the blue one would suit your complexion the best.” Tina lifted the blue and golden-sequined dress and placed it next to Rose’s face, then harshly nodded. “Right. Go into the bathroom and put it on. Please,” she added in a softer tone.

Her entire demeanour was strange, and Rose didn’t know what to think of it. She took the dress and the undergarments that Mrs Scamander handed her – why would she need underthings when she had her own? – before heading to the bathroom.

She made sure to keep her wand on her person when she came back out.

* * *

Truth be told, the outfit fitted her very well, and she felt pretty even as the strange ex-Auror led her to a full-length mirror.

“Mmmh…” Tina said, whirling Rose around to see her from all angles. “Yes, it’s nice. It brings out the red of your hair. Speaking of which,” she made a gesture as if caressing Rose’s head and the younger witch could feel her hair grow and curl.

She gasped and looked into the mirror again. The red tendrils were now reaching her chin, and tastefully curled. All in all, she was the perfect poster-child for the previous century.

“It’s really nice, Mrs Scamander, but why did you-?”

She cut short, noticing that Tina was holding something. Rose’s wand. That she had been keeping in her sleeve previous to that moment. The look on the stern woman’s face was one of determination, and suddenly, Rose was scared.

“What are you doing?” she asked, cursing herself for sounding so terrified.

“I’m going to need your help, Miss Weasley. And you’re going to give it to me.” She wasn’t threatening, not really, not with the way she held Rose’s wand so low, but she knew better: she had seen the elderly woman perform wandless magic enough times now to know that she was dangerous even when she looked harmless. “And first, you are going to call your flatmate, and ask him to bring us a Time Turner.”

“Mrs Scamander-“ Rose began. This was preposterous. Not only did she have no idea at all how Tina knew about Scorpius’ job; but there was also this Time Turner thing. Why on Earth was she so bent on finding one?

“Don’t. Do as I say, and while we wait, I’ll answer some of your questions. Not all. Now come,” she pulled Rose by the arm – with a strong grip not befitting someone her age – and led her back to the parlour, where she locked the door with a swish of the hand, and lit a fire with another.

Every fireplace in the Home was only big enough for ‘firecalls’. No one could enter directly in the residents’ rooms. It was a question of security.

“Now, dear, you’re going to tell your lovely friend that he’ll have twenty minutes to bring the item here. If he doesn’t comply, make sure he knows that I was once very good at torturing people. I’m sure I haven’t lost it all. Twenty minutes, Rose. Any longer would be enough for your darling mother to send us some Aurors of her own.”

She was saying that in such a nonplussed way, it was properly frightful.

So Rose knelt in front of the fireplace, and did was she was asked. All the while, trying to find a way to warn her mother without Tina knowing. Even if her abductor – because that’s what she was now – had already thought of that eventuality.

* * *

Scorpius was home, of course he was. Apparently, Tina had thought of everything before acting up on her plan.

When she called from the small fireplace in the living-room, he ran from the kitchen, pale and worried, even more so when he spotted her head floating amidst the flames.

“Rose? What happened to your hair?”

“Never mind my hair, Scorp. Mrs Scamander has taken me hostage and she wants you to bring her a Time Turner. In twenty minutes. I don’t know why she’s doing that but she seems determined. And twenty minutes, Scorp. Even if Time Turners still existed, it’d take you much longer to fetch one from the Department of Mysteries. Warn Mum, please. Maybe she can reach me quick enough.”

During her whole tirade, Scorpius had grown paler and paler still, making his blonde hair stand out and making him look ill. “Shit” was all he said for a while, then he started pacing back and forth in front of Rose, who was starting to panic.

“What are you doing Scorp? Go to my mum, warn her!”

“I can’t do that, Rose. Twenty minutes? Who knows what that crazy crone would do to you in the time it’d take us to go to you? No, I…” He let out a deep breath. “Tell her I’ll be along shortly.”

“Scorp…” He met her eyes, and she was angrier than scared now. “Don’t tell me you _actually_ still have a Time Turner!”

“I don’t, I swear…” He paused. “My dad…”

Rose groaned, even as she felt Tina tug on her dress to pull her back. “ _Damn you Malfoys_! Hurry up Ferret!” And she was back in the Home, angry, scared, disappointed, and wandless.

“So?” The 125-year-old who was threatening her asked.

“He’s coming,” Rose groaned.

“Perfect. Sit, child. You are due some answers. Five, I think, at the most. While we wait.”

* * *

It was surreal. Completely surreal. Rose was sitting in those strange clothes – why in Merlin’s name had Tina asked her to wear them? only so she could get her wand? – in the sofa she had been so keen on making homely a few weeks back.

Next to her was her abductor, who was sipping on a cup of tea and staring at the fire calmly, as if it was a perfectly normal afternoon.

“Come now, Rose. I know you want to ask me some things. Do it. Your friend isn’t due for another ten minutes…”

“Why do you need a Time Turner?” she blurted out, unable to remain silent a moment longer. “You’ve had a perfect life. So why do you need one? And why me?”

“That makes two questions. Firstly, I need the Time Turner to right a wrong. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, for a long time. Newt disapproved, which is why I’m only acting now. But I have to act. Or I will regret it.” She sighed. “And I chose you, because you are intelligent, kind, and understanding. Or you will be. And you could have access to what I needed more easily than anyone else in this _horrible_ place.”

“Understanding of what?” Rose blanched. “You do not intend to bring Voldemort back, do you?”

“Four questions now. You’ll be motivated to help me once you understand my motives. And don’t bring up that sorry excuse for a wizard. If I’d been there when he first rose to power, he’d have been dead quicker.” She sneered. “So no, I don’t intend to bring him back.”

“So you are not doing this for wrong reasons?”

“No, I’m not. I can assure you that my reasons are entirely good. And now your quota has been reached.” She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Five more minutes. He’d better hurry up, blood is so hard to clean off wool…” Again, the matter-of-factly tone.

Rose felt trapped in a bad thriller novel. She kept wondering if she had not just watched too much _Midsummer Murders_ and was still dreaming…

* * *

The knock on the door precisely three minutes later told her she wasn’t dreaming. Unfortunately.

Tina moved to the door, taking care of body-binding Rose before she did, and grabbed the item that Scorpius’ pale hand handed her through the small opening. He protested, but the ex-Auror cast a silencing spell on the door, and locked it twice.

“Well well,” she said, cradling the hourglass-like object in her hands. Rose glared at it, already knowing what it’d look like. After what Scorp and Albus had done, she’d have hoped that idiot Draco would have handed over all of these dangerous items, but apparently, it had been wishful thinking…

“Don’t do it. Mrs Scamander, it’s not worth it.”

Tina met her gaze and raised a brow. “It is. It is entirely worth it. You will understand, Rose, I promise. Now, let me figure out how to work this thing…” She studied the Time-Turner from every angle, touching some dials without turning them, and stretching the chain around it.

There was a commotion outside, despite the silencing charm, and it forced the old witch to move. She grabbed Rose and forced her to stand, wrapping the chain around her neck.

Suddenly, it dawned on the young woman. Mrs Scamander didn’t only need her to get the Time-Turner, she had also wanted to use _her_ as a lab-rat!

“No! _No!_ ” she yelled, trying to free herself from the body-bind. “Don’t! _Please!_ I haven’t done anything to you! _Don’t_ do this to me!”

But Tina was determined. She slipped a hand in Rose’s dress; waved a hand over the Time-Turner, which glowed blue for a moment; and just as the door banged opened, she turned the dial.

Rose just had enough time to see her mother run inside the room, her wand raised, before everything started spinning around her, lights, people, objects and minutes, hours, months, years, decades…

* * *

Rose had gone.


	3. In which Rose in on a ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi there! Thank you to those who have already read the first chapters and/or who let me know what they thought!  
> .  
> I started writing Time Meddler right after the first Fantastic Beasts movie got out. I lost sight of it in-between the two movies, and after meeting Theseus, the muse came back full force. So I'm in the process of rereading everything that I'd already written and make sure that it's of a good enough quality for you guys.  
> .  
> Anyway, and because the teacher in me likes it (call me masochistic if you will), if you ever have something to tell me to improve the way I write or what I write, feel free to do so! :)  
> .  
> Enjoy!

The whole process lasted for about a minute. Though, to Rose, it could have well been a lifetime. Her newly-grown hair whipped around her the same as colours and shapes, and her tears had not stopped falling when the Time-Turner around her neck stopped spinning.

There was a moment of pure silence. Rose took a breath, then another and, freed of the Body-Bind spell her abductor had placed on her, she fell to her knees and started weeping.

Why her? Why had Porpentina Scamander, a witch loved and respected by all, decided to make _her_ life miserable? Had decided to send her back in Time, for whatever purpose she’d had, and in the same throw, jeopardized everything?

There was a sound, like a twig snapping, and the young witch gasped, standing and brandishing the wand that had been returned to her sleeve. Only then did she realise she was in the middle of a forest. It was pitch dark, and her first instinct was to cast a Lumos. She refrained from doing so, remembering her mother’s words of ‘when in danger, don’t bring attention to yourself’. So instead, Rose cast a location spell, to try and at least understand where she had been sent.

Two things happened simultaneously: one, the spell showed her, by ways of sparks, a crude outline of England, then zoomed in somehow to show the exact location of the Home; two, the Time-Turner started glowing blue.

Wishing as hard as she could that it meant she could go home, Rose held it tight to her chest. But instead of the moving shapes she had experienced not five minutes prior, she felt a familiar sensation, like a hook taking hold of her near her navel, and she was pulled elsewhere.

The Time-Turner was also a Portkey.

* * *

Travelling via Portkey was as disagreeable as Disapparating, if not more. Rose had lived through both countless times, between her commuting to work and her visits to her maternal grand-parents in Australia.

It was disagreeable, and it totally justified the fact that she fell face first onto the floor once she landed.

“Humph!” was her first reaction, before she noticed lying on some sort of metal and stood hurriedly, raising her wand-arm as she did.

Wherever she was, it was looked like a cell. There were two bunk beds facing each other, and she had landed in the very narrow space between the two. There was a lightbulb flickering on the ceiling, and some sort of…sway?

Rose hurried to the door, wishing it to be unlocked. It was, and she carefully peeked into what appeared to be a carpeted corridor. Lights flickered on the walls, and she noticed doors standing all around. On them, numbers. Her own was reading ‘475’. The whole building seemed to move, and prompted her to take hold of something to make sure she didn’t fall again.

Another location spell later, she had to admit the obvious: she had been transported to a ship. Seeing as she was apparently standing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Hearing conversation and footsteps nearing the corridor, Rose closed the door and locked it via spell, turning to sit carefully on one bunk-bed. On the other was an opened suitcase, but she thought that whomever was its owner was likely not to be in a hurry if they were out of their cabin so late at night.

* * *

While she sat and tried to reign in her sea-sickness – she had never actually been on a boat, other than her first arrival at Hogwarts so long ago – she also tried to gather her thoughts and summarize what she knew and what had happened to her this past hour.

She had been abducted by Tina Scamander, former Auror and widow of Newt Scamander, a magizoologist. Tina had said that Rose would help her once she knew what was at stake, and sent her back in time in foreign clothes and with no information whatsoever.

She had landed at the exact location of the Home, but it wasn’t there. Meaning two things: she had gone back to _at least_ 1977, the year it was built; and the Time-Turner was one of those that did not travel in space but made it up by travelling further back in time. Just her luck.

Tina had also charmed the item to become a Portkey five minutes precisely after landing. Which left enough time to Rose to recover from the first journey.

She really seemed to have thought this whole thing through.

Except one thing: whenever she had sent Rose, she had condemned her to an existence of trials, heartbreak and danger. Because now, Rose would never have the life she might have had in 2026. She’d likely not even see her family again.

 _Mum. Dad. Hugo._ Albus. Scorpius. Uncle Harry. Auntie Gin. Grandma. Grandpa…. _Mum. Dad. Hugo._

Rose let out a cry of anguish, and squeezed her arms to her chest, full-on sobbing at that point.

Her life…destroyed…

* * *

At one point during her meltdown, it appeared that Rose had cried herself to sleep. For when she woke up, she was huddled up on the bed, eyes stinging, breath hitching, and chest heavy.

There also was someone else with her. A man. Sitting on the bed facing her. Watching her.

Rose sat up abruptly, and raised her wand. It could have been a mistake – the man could have been a Muggle, after all – but if he had gone past her locking spell, then he definitely was a wizard. And dangerous.

Although dangerous was not the first thing that sprang to mind once she took him in.

He couldn’t have been more than 30 years old. Bronze hair, swept a little carelessly to the side, and a freckly face with green eyes. He was wearing a white shirt with braces, a bowtie and brown trousers. Beside him, the suitcase was still opened. He obviously was its owner.

But the strangest thing was that he looked painfully familiar in a way she couldn’t yet grasp.

“Who are you?” Rose hissed, trying her best to sound as threatening as she could.

The man tilted his head to the side, as if he was curious. “I was going to ask you the same.” He was smiling, one of those nervous smiles reserved to introverts. She noticed how his gaze went from her wand to a point over her shoulder, and realised he hadn’t met her gaze yet.

“My name is Rose…” she was about to give her last name, but whenever she had landed, her names could mean too much.

“Well met, Miss Rose. May I ask what you are doing in my cabin? I specifically asked to have it to myself for the duration of the trip. Not that I don’t appreciate some company, but I have a lot of things to do, and there are too many Muggles on this ship, and-“

She cut his rambling short. “Who are you?”

“My name is Newt.” In the same way she had, he didn’t give her his last name.

She didn’t need it. The name clicked, and she gasped, raising her wand even higher in case her abductor, granted, a younger version, appeared at the door. “Newt _Scamander_?”

For a split second, his green eyes met hers. Then he looked away again. “Right. You have heard of me.”

“Of course I have! You are the most famous magizoologist in the world!” She was about to go on, talk about books and adventures and other stuff, but when she noticed his shock, she realised she had gone a bit too far. And still hadn’t asked the most important question of the evening. “What year is this?”

Newt met her gaze again, this time a bit longer. He was surprised, and also alarmed, she could see. He was truly living up to his former Hogwarts House, she thought. “Have you hit your head? Eaten anything strange recently? Have you had a momentary blackout?”

“None of that,” she pursed her lips, flicked her wand to make sure the door was still locked. “I’m a Healer, I’d know the symptoms. I’ll ask again: what is the date?”

Newt hesitated, his fingers twitching and inching closer to where his wand rested on the bed. _Now_ he saw her as a threat, because she was asking about the year?

His hesitation was put to rest when he noticed her trembling fingers. He sighed. “I do not know why you ask, but this is the 3rd December, 1926.”

* * *

Rose lowered her wand, gasping, choking even, as she took heed of his words.

A century.

A whole century.

Tina had sent her back _a whole century_ into the past.

When neither her parents or grandparents were even born yet. When Voldemort didn’t exist yet. When the world was in transit between one horrifying war and another, and another, and another yet.

Newt noticed her sudden discomfort, and rose from the facing bed. Rose didn’t have time to raise her wand again, he had placed a hand over her forehead, checking for a fever.

“Miss Rose, what is it? Why is the date shocking you so much?”

She choked on her words, tears springing to her eyes, and before she knew it, she was clutching at this man’s shirt, forcing him into an embrace he didn’t return.

* * *

Once the shock – another one to add to that day’s pile – subsided, Rose released the poor Newt, who sat back on the other bed, visibly uncomfortable with what had just occurred.

“I’m so-so-s-sorry,” Rose croaked out, “I’m just…show me your hands,” she commanded, unsure if she could trust the man yet.

The bronze-haired wizard’s eyes widened, but he complied, showing her his hands, palms up, then palms down. There were scars there, surely from his various creatures, but no ring.

“You are not married yet,” she whispered, and once again managed to surprise him.

“Miss Rose, as mysterious and enticing as this all is, I really need answers to my questions right about now. I have to-“ he glanced at his open suitcase, “-work.”

She sighed and nodded, wiping the last of her tears away. “I’m sorry again, for all this. But, well… For a lack of a better description… I’ve been sent from the future. Although I don’t know why me, why here and why now.”

Newton Scamander had so far proven to be the aloof kind of man that would have suited Rose’s Auntie Luna’s personality. But as soon as she said the word ‘future’, he was alert, eyes piercing and trying to detect a lie in her say.

“The future,” he repeated. “How far into the future?”

“A whole…a whole century,” she answered, voice cracking as she did.

“That…is not possible. My father owned a device made to travel back in Time, but it only sent him five hours back. A century is totally preposterous.” He stood, picking up his wand as he did.

Rose stood as well, realising he thought her a threat. But in the small space of the cabin, they found themselves nearly nose-to-nose. It allowed her to see each drop of gold in his green eyes, and allowed him to notice her distress.

“You look out of sorts though,” he said in a much softer way, “which means that, even if your tale isn’t true, you are maybe under some kind of Cunfundus charm.” He tucked his wand back in his sleeve, and after a second, Rose did the same.

Somehow, in the minutes she’d spent in his presence, Newt Scamander had made her trust him.

“You seem exhausted, and no wonder why,” he said, his gaze returning to the point over her shoulder and tilting his head awkwardly. “I can offer you tea, if you wish.”

Fully expecting him to make a kettle appear out of nowhere, Rose sat back down and nodded. “Thank you, I’d rather enjoy something soothing.”

He surprised her once again when, instead of actually conjuring a teapot out of thin air, Newt lifted a leg and planted it knee-deep in his open suitcase. He did the same with the other leg, and soon, he was climbing down some sort of invisible ladder and disappearing down with a small smile. “Don’t worry, it’s quite safe,” he said before his head vanished.

Rose shot from the bed, leaning over the suitcase in awe. It was dark inside, as if she was staring down a dungeon’s staircase, but there were noises coming from the bottom. Something like porcelain, and words.

* * *

Rose Granger-Weasley mustered the legendary Gryffindor courage, lifted her leg, and descended into Newt Scamander’s strange suitcase.

She had the nagging feeling that this whole adventure had just started. And it wasn’t reassuring. Not one bit.


	4. In which Newt has a lot of roommates

Once she had disappeared inside the extended suitcase, Rose found herself in some sort of study, although it also resembled a shack. There was a long table that took up a whole wall and on which were scattered various utensils and plants; a long shelf on which rested several pots; an armchair; and books. A lot of books.

Noise came from ‘outside’ the shack/study: there was door leading somewhere beyond. Rose had only seen this type of Undetectable Extension Charm before, although it had been on her mother’s handbag, and it didn’t contain a _room_. To say she was impressed would have been an understatement.

“You did this on your own?” she asked, studying the room with wide eyes while Newt fixed a kettle and placed it on a _proper heater_. In a suitcase.

“Camomile?” he asked and when she had nodded, he answered with his peculiar and shy smile. “I did. I regularly add rooms when I welcome more…friends.”

“Friends?” Rose tilted her head to the side and went to stand beside him. Somehow she trusted him enough for proximity. “What kind of friends?” She had heard of his affinity towards ‘dangerous’ creatures, but she was genuinely curious.

“I’ll show you, tomorrow morning. You need to rest and let go of your thoughts.” It was easily said, as if he’d been through this predicament several times before. “Go, sit in the chair, I’ll be with you shortly.” He turned back to the teapot and filled it with the boiling water.

Rose sat in the comfortable and old-looking armchair, and once the tea was fixed, Newt joined her, transfigurating a stool into another armchair.

“Sorry,” he said, not meeting her eyes again, “I don’t entertain much.”

“It’s alright,” she said, and warmed her hands on the heated mug.

* * *

“So,” Newt said after the couple first sips, “you have been sent here…from the future.”

“Yes.” A lump formed in her throat again.

“Do you have any idea why?”

“None. The person who did this said I’d understand their motives once I’d know them. But…”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t.”

Newt seemed deep in thought for a long moment. He scratched his head, not paying any attention to Rose. He was an awkward person, but so far, she failed to see any difference with his great-grandchildren, Lorcan and Lysander. Awkwardness ran in the family.

She sipped on her tea calmly, wondering to which creatures the noises she could hear belonged. She dearly hoped that her for-now host didn’t own something like Trolls or Acromentulas. She shared her arachnophobia with her Dad, and Trolls were not known for their gentle nature.

“Well,” Newt finally said, making her start slightly, “I can only think of one person who could know how to help. But I cannot take you to him now. I have urgent business in America. I will take you after, though.”

Rose choked a bit on her tea, and coughed her answer. “You believe me?”

He answered while staring at his tea. “Of course I do. I’ve laced your tea with Veritaserum.”

Rose’s eyes widened, and she glared at her own cup before understanding that she’d have done the exact same had a strange woman barged into her life claiming to come from the future. “Fair enough. You know someone who could help?”

“Yes, I do,” he said calmly. “I doubt you know of him, though: in a century, he’s surely long dead.” He paused. “He’s an old teacher of mine. And he’s the most knowledgeable person I can think of.”

She nodded and didn’t question his choice. She trusted that he’d tell her who it was later on. “What is this business of yours, then?”

“There’s…someone…I have to help get home.” He said no more, and went back to his thoughts. “You do not have a passport, do you?”

“I don’t, no, I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s a problem. You’ll have to hide in here when we arrive in port, then.” He stood, moving around and stopping in front of a bookshelf. Rose could faintly see the outline of a photo-frame, but she couldn’t see who or what was on it. “You could pose as my sister.”

“I could? But…do you have a sister?”

“I don’t, but no one in America would know. My brother is famous enough for the both of us.” He sighed and turned back to her, though still not meeting her gaze. “You are red-haired like me. People would easily believe we are related.”

“Alright,” she said, finishing her tea and putting the cup down. “So, what now?”

“We should arrive in New-York in two or three days. In the meantime, I’ll show you around.” She knew he meant his case, not the ship. “But right now, it’s high time you rested. Your day has been too eventful and I can see it taking its toll.” He gestured her to stand, after which he transfigured the armchair into a cot, complete with pillow and blanket. “I have not spoken so much in a long time. I need time alone. I’ll be next door. If you need anything, send a Patronus. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

Rose had half a mind to look affronted, but she didn’t. So she just nodded. “I do. Thank you,” she added quickly before he turned away and went through the mysterious door.

Animals immediately made themselves known, but she didn’t have time to try and identify them before the door was closed and silence fell over the small room.

* * *

Despite Newt’s tea and the reality that she was truly emotionally exhausted, Rose could not sleep. She turned and tossed for long moments, before standing and studying the rest of study, the blanket wrapped around her.

Newt owned two photographs: one of a beautiful young woman (who wasn’t Tina); and one of an elderly couple and two teenagers: Newt himself, and no doubt, the brother he’d been talking about. That brother seemed a bit older, if the inches he had on Newt were any indication, and he had lighter hair. The photo was in sepia, therefore didn’t show any colours.

It became obvious after perusing his shelves that her host was as much a Healer as she was, although he used experimental plants, some of which she didn’t recognize. If she was to spend some time down there, she’d at least be able to make herself useful.

A Potions cauldron lay in a corner, with several vials, some already filled with colourful fluids.

When she crouched to pick up a crumpled ball of paper from the floor, Rose felt something inside her dress, and she straightened, puzzled.

And then, she remembered: just before she sent her back in time, Tina had put something into the folds of the dress. And after retrieving it, Rose realised it was an envelope.

Torn between tearing it up in anger and opening it in eagerness, she breathed deeply once, twice, thrice, before going back to sit on the small cot.

She picked up her wand on the small coffee table, and cast a Lumos.

Tina’s handwriting was shaking, but easy to decipher. And just the sight of it made Rose want to scream in anger. Because the first words on the sheet were ‘Dear Rose’, and what had given _that woman_ the _right_ to call her that when she destroyed her life so thoroughly?

* * *

‘ _Dear Rose,_

_I know that, when you’ll read these words, you’ll be very angry with me. Not knowing why I sent you back to 1926 when I could have gone myself. But I couldn’t. I’m old, and meeting with my younger self would have destroyed the world as you and I both knew it._

_By now you surely have been transported to Newt’s cabin on the Atlantic. I hadn’t met him at that point, but he’d told me enough for me to be able to make sure you’d land there safely._

_You can trust him. My husband was against my plan, and he’d be physically unable to harm you, or anyone for that matter. He’s always been like that, and most of the times, it infuriated me._

_Newt is going to New-York to free one of his creatures. He’ll meet me soon, as well as my sister, Queenie. It’s for her that I sent you back._

_In 1927, Queenie will be lost to me. She’ll go too far for me to save her, and I’ll lose her. She’ll die, and I won’t be able to do anything about it. And it’s going to destroy me utterly._

_My sister is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. She’s 25 years old, at least when you’ll meet her. I ask this of you: befriend her, keep her safe. I won’t be able to do it myself. That’s all I’m asking of you._

_Think of your own brother. If he was to die so tragically, if he was to be killed by a Dark Wizard, innocent and unknowing, would you not try to go back in time and save him? I know you would._

_Please help me. Please save Queenie. I know you are capable of it._

_And don’t be too harsh on the younger me. I grew to be who I am now. Because of Queenie’s death._

_So long Rose, and thank you._

_Porpentina Goldstein._ ’

* * *

Rose ended up tearing up the letter anyway. The longer she read, the more she needed to punch something. She’d have loved for it to be her abductor, even if she had never been prone to violence.

She flipped the cot over, though, and effectively screamed.

It made Newt slam the door open and raise his wand as if he was being under attack.

“Oh,” he said when he noticed her, her eyes red and her hands balled in fists, “I’d forgotten you were here. Everything alright?”

“No,” she answered, taking a deep breath to calm down. As least, Tina had been right about one thing: Newt had nothing to do with her wrong-doings. “I can’t sleep. Can I help you with anything?”

Newt stared at her, for once looking into her eyes. “You said you were a Healer.”

“I am.”

“Then I guess you can help. Follow me and do as I say.”

Rose followed him out the door, and it struck her then that Newt Scamander was a calm and gentle person, except when a situation could put his creatures in danger. Namely, that situation was her.

* * *

Outside of the study, there were too many things to count. A clearing here, a lake there, a mountain range further ahead, a scorching desert to the right, an immense plain field to the left…

She gaped openly, and that was before she even noticed the creatures.

A Firecrab approached them and Newt gently steered it away; while a couple of dung beetles passed by, hurling a giant ball of mud in front of them.

The wizard led Rose to a small hammock-like contraption, from which came a soft moan of pain. The creature was out of sight, that is, until Newt called to it. “Dougal, it’s alright. This is Rose. She’s going to help you.” He beckoned Rose at the same time as a simian creature with a grey coat and big eyes appeared.

“Is it…a Demiguise?”

“It is. I’m impressed you recognized it.” Newt smiled, visibly content. Rose didn’t tell him she had recognized Dougal’s species because of his own book. It would be too weird. “He’s been bitten by one of the Occamies,” he continued as if that was the most normal of occurrences. “If you want, you can apply poultice to his paw.”

“I’d love to.” She approached, and slowly picked the bowl Newt handed her. Dougal observed her and she let him sniff her. He soon seemed to think she was okay, for he sat back down and outstretched his wounded paw. A long gash showed near his knee, and she softly applied the poultice to it, cooing to him to calm the pain.

“You have a gift for it,” Newt said with another smile. “I’ll leave you to it. Once it’s done, follow that path, I’ll be feeding the Mooncalves.”

“You have _Mooncalves_?” Rose’s eyes widened. Care for Magical Creatures had not been her favourite topic at school, but it had been Hugo’s, and the deer-like creatures that appeared only during the full moon had always had a special place in his heart.

“Rose,” Newt said with a grin and a glint in his eyes, “I think you are going to like staying here.”

And she had a feeling she was going to enjoy it too, despite everything…


	5. In which Nifflers are little mongrels

The next time Rose stepped inside Newt’s study, she had Dougal wrapped around her shoulders. The Demiguise had taken a shine to her, and she had to admit that the creature’s calm demeanour helped with soothing her current worries.

She found Newt bent over a letter, a bright pink Fwooper waiting patiently next to him on the desk. If she hadn’t been as book and studies-obsessed as her mother had been, Rose would have probably not recognized the bird. Thankfully, part of her N.E.W.T.s exams had been a practical experience during which she had had to single out the real Fwooper quill among a group of fakes before reuniting it with its ‘mother bird’. Which had also consisted in a swift use of a Silencing charm to protect herself from its song. She didn’t want to go insane, after all…

“Who are you writing to?” she finally asked the magizoologist after offering an apple to Dougal, who snuggled her neck as way of thanks.

Newt didn’t even look up from the parchment he was folding. “The friend I was telling you about. If everything goes along to plan, we’ll be able to visit him in a week or so. Better to give him a heads-up.”

“Mmmh…” she answered half-heartedly. If it was down to her, she’d be in England by now, meeting with this mysterious friend. Dougal climbed down her shoulders and she opened the door leading to the ‘animal kingdom’, as she had started referring to the rest of Newt’s case. “Are you using a Fwooper to deliver the letter? Isn’t it too long a distance?”

As often when she showed knowledge of an otherwise obscure creature, Newt stared at her with curious green eyes. Then he nodded, a fond smile forming on his lips as he approached the bird to tie the envelope to its leg. “Fwoopers can travel the length of Africa without getting tired. And Lyla,” he added with a stroke of the bird’s head, “is longing for a long flight. My friend will take care of her until I can collect her myself.”

He finished tying the message to Lyla’s leg, and when he was done, he headed towards the ladder leading out of the suitcase. Rose didn’t think ill of his lack of words as he left. Newton Scamander was a man who preferred the company of creatures to that of humans. She kind of agreed with him.

It was a surprise, though, as she tidied up and picked up crumpled papers from the floor, to see a name she was _very_ familiar with appear on an unfinished letter.

‘ _Dear Albus,_ ’ it began, and within seconds, Rose was crying, cradling her cousin’s name to her chest.

* * *

Newt found her like that when he came back down. He paused at the bottom of the ladder, staring at her weirdly before he cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

She started, wiping quickly at her tears. “Nothing, it’s just…who’s Albus?” In her shock, she hadn’t thought, hadn’t realised that there could only be _one_ person by that name in Newt’s life.

He didn’t answer immediately, clearly not understanding her tears. “Albus Dumbledore. He’s a teacher at Hogwarts.”

The shock came back, and Rose stared at the words on the parchment. Of course. _Of course!_ Albus Severus had been called that after two former Headmasters, and none was as famous as Dumbledore. Rose herself had been called to Headmistress McGonagall’s office several times, and she remembered the silver-haired wizard with piercing blue eyes.

Newt was more observant than she would have thought. “You know him? _How?_ ” He came to stand by her, brow furrowed.

“He-“ she started, “I know _of_ him. From my parents. My cousin is named after him. Hence the…tears.” She cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed.

She didn’t need to be. “ _Really?_ Well, he’d be happy to know people call their children after him. Anyway, we are nearing port. I must go back up.”

Rose nodded gravely. Right. New-York. “How do we proceed then?”

“Once I’m through customs, I’ll knock, and you can get out. I have to report to MACUSA before going to the train station, and you need fresher air I think.” He smiled that shy smile of his. “Keep close though. I’m sure the world here isn’t as it is for you, and America is really backwards concerning certain things.”

She frowned, wondering just how different the 1920s were to the world she’d known all her life. That period was rarely studied in History lessons, magical or not.

Rose thought she’d have to question Newt about certain customs of this era, while he put on his long blue coat and left her to her doings.

New-York, 1920s. Here we go.

* * *

It took about an hour, during which Rose took care of her newest friends. She noticed one of the Occamy eggs was missing, but did not worry: Newt had surely taken it with him. The rest of the eggs had hatched, so he no doubt had wanted to give the last one some warmth to help with the process.

Dougal seemed restless, which surprised her. The male Niffler was trying to steal the Occamy eggshells – prompting her to use a very stern voice her grandma would have been proud of – and Frank the Thunderbird refused to come down fetch his food. But other than that, she found herself rather pleasantly surprised of the ease with which she managed the menagerie.

She fixed her hair soon after Newt’s departure. Bent on removing all traces of her abduction, she cut it shorter – mid-cheek – and curled it, and changed the colour of the dress from blue to green.

The case jolted several times – she even heard a lock clicking shut at one point, and then, three gentle knocks overhead. She locked the door leading to the animals and climbed the ladder for the first time in two days.

Newt had stopped in a small and dark alley to let her out. He offered her his hand, she took it easily.

New-York in 1926 was reminiscent of the England of _Downton Abbey_ , an old show she and her cousin Lily loved to watch over and over again. Men wore suits, women wore dresses and skirts. Old vintage cars travelled slowly on the paved streets, alongside carriages that painfully reminded Rose of Hogwarts.

Her wizarding friend began steering her through a large avenue. It was impossible to guess who was magical and who wasn’t. When in doubt, prudence was safety, and she tucked her wand safely inside her sleeve.

“Where are you going?” she muttered when Newt moved dizzyingly in the direction of a small gathering. It took place in front of what appeared to be a bank. A woman, stern and severe-looking, stood on the stairs, talking animatedly to a group of about thirty, varying between annoyance and interest.

Rose let Newt snake his way through the Muggles, and gritted her teeth as she heard the woman’s grievances against ‘unnatural people’. It was pretty clear that America, at this point in history, was facing crisis.

A boy about her age approached her and handed her a flyer, his head held down, shoulders up and demeanour uneasy. Like someone who’d like to remain invisible.

She read the paper’s title: the woman haranguing the crowd was part of a group that called itself the ‘Second Salemers’. It didn’t ring a bell, but part of its name did. Any student of Professor Binns’ that had survived his lessons knew that _any_ reference to the Salem massacres meant no good.

Then the flyer fell to the ground just as Newt tugged on her hand to force her to follow him up the stairs.

“What is it?” she hissed, unsure of why he wanted to go inside a Muggle bank.

“The Niffler has escaped,” Newt answered, eyes visibly panicked.

Rose’s instinct kicked in, even as pursed her lips. “Take the right. I’ll go left.” He nodded, and went his way, case in hand. “Stupid Niffler,” she added bitterly before walking around innocently enough.

And the day took yet another turn when someone grabbed her arm and forced her outside on a secluded part of the massive entrance.

* * *

The offending person turned out to be a woman in her twenties with mustard smudged on her lip. She was wearing grey, and something in her dark eyes put Rose ill at ease.

“Who are you?” the woman whispered angrily. Rose tore her arm out of her grip, showing her own annoyance.

“I could ask you the same. What is your business, grabbing people like that?”

The brunette sighed in anger, and took a wallet out of her coat. The ID that appeared showed the official badge of a MACUSA employee, but it was the name written next to it that caught her eye.

“ _You!_ ” Rose growled, taking her wand out – and if the bank’s clients had paid attention, they would have seen her.

Porpentina Goldstein, her future abductor, grabbed her once again, this time forcing a Side-Along Apparition on her to take her down to an alley reminiscent of the one Newt used to let her out of his case.

The Auror took the opportunity to disarm Rose, dark eyes now clearly screaming danger. The red-haired witch glared openly at the woman who destroyed her future.

It sent the wrong message. “Who are you and who is the man with you?” The wand raised in Rose’s face was not an empty threat: that was clear.

“Rose…Scamander.” It was strange to use that name as hers, especially when facing the woman because of whom she had to use it. “I’m visiting New-York with my brother Newton.”

“Mmh…” Tina’s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of her wand, she had Rose bound. “We’ll see. Stay here.” And she Disapparated away.

Rose moaned. For the second time in a matter of days, she was immobilized by the same woman.

Newt or not, she was going to _kill_ Porpentina Goldstein.

* * *

Said Tina reappeared a moment later, Newt attached to her arm. She presented him with her MACUSA badge, and both started talking about No-Majs (Muggles in America), and one he had failed to Obliviate.

“That’s a section 3A, Mister Scamander,” she sighed. “I’m taking you in.”

Rose shrunk away when she grabbed her arm again, but after a moment, they were all facing a tall inconspicuous building.

“Is this woman really your sister?” The Auror asked, making her victim hiss again.

Newt nodded with an apologetic smile to Rose. “Yes, Rose is my little sister.”

Tina seemed dubious, but appeared to accept the excuse. She freed the younger witch from her invisible bounds, and gave her back her wand.

It was painfully like déjà-vu, and Rose was close to bursting.

“I would be quiet if I were you, Miss Scamander. You almost assaulted an official.” Rose glared at her again before Tina led her and Newt towards a side-door.

* * *

Magical. MACUSA’s HQ was magical. Whereas the British Ministry for Magic had been built underground near the old Scotland Yard in London, its American counterpart had been constructed in a parallel dimension next to the Muggle building.

A huge clock-like quadrant showed the magical community was extremely close to being discovered, and hundreds of wizards and witches moved about. There wasn’t a pointy hat or colourful robes in sight.

Tina directed Rose to a bench close to which a House Elf was polishing a man’s shoes. “Wait here.”

She had half a mind to send a curse to the woman’s back with her she treated her and Newt, but surrounded by law-abiding people as she was, it wouldn’t have been a good idea.

So Rose sat down, cursing dark-eyes bitches, Time-Turners…and Nifflers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and will enjoy the next one. ;)


	6. In which Queenie Goldstein is far too cute

In the twenty minutes she spent in the Atrium, Rose noticed many differences between MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic that she had known all her life.

Here, everyone seemed on edge. She saw people being brought for seemingly very minor offenses – such as Apparating in one’s own home, as, apparently, there was a risk that the neighbours would hear – and most employees looking grim and wearing dark, gloomy colours.

She stood out like a sore thumb with her red hair and green dress, and it wasn’t a surprise when a man walked up to her some time after Tina and Newt had disappeared in the old-fashioned lift. He’d been directed to her by another official who’d pointed in her direction, which she had pretended not to see.

He was probably in his early forties, with neatly-cropped hair that greyed at the temples, really dark eyes, and an overall demeanour that was a mix between natural authority, confidence, and charm.

Rose stood as he approached, as if in the presence of a King or Prince.

His bushy brows furrowed. “Miss?” he asked in a smooth voice, “can I help you with anything?”

She tried to smile, and shook her head. “No thank you, Sir. I am waiting for my brother. He should be here soon. I hope.”

The stranger looked puzzled, and annoyed. “I’m afraid you still have to report to the visitors’ desk. To be filed in.”

Oh, she realised. _Of course._ How many times had she visited her mother and uncle and pinned a badge to her chest? “I’m sorry, the Auror who brought us in made me sit here and didn’t explain.”

The man was definitely curious, now. But with a glance to his watch, he still turned to walk to the lift. “Please report to the desk. We need to know who is inside our walls at any given time. Even simple visitors; it’s a matter of national security, which I’m sure you understand.”

She nodded, but sat back down as soon as the man had disappeared behind ornate grate. She couldn’t report. Her wand had technically not been made yet, and Rose Scamander didn’t exist.

She just hoped the dark-clad man didn’t come back. She had a hunch that he was important enough to make her pay for her insubordination.

* * *

Thankfully, Tina and Newt came back a few minutes later, both looking rather displeased, although Newt was more…worried?

“So?” Rose asked, glaring again at the brunette.

“So, your brother has not only _forgotten_ to Obliviate a No-Maj, but he also gave him his case.”

Rose’s eyes widened and she turned to Newt. “ _What?_ ”

Newt looked away, as he usually did. “It appears that when Mr Kowalski ran away, he mistook my case for his…”

“Alright, first thing first: how do you know his name? And how can we make sure he didn’t open it?”

“We can’t,” said Tina through pursed lips as she led them out of the building.

“I swear, Newton, if any harm has come to Dougal or anyone else, I’m going to show you a neat little jinx my aunt taught me.”

Newt blushed, and started explaining how he met Jacob Kowalski, a Muggle baker, and how he showed him maybe a little too much…

Rose had enough time to realise she had chastised him just like a sister would have…

* * *

Since he knew the poor Muggle’s name, Tina had managed to get his address out of a file. But when they did get to Rivington Street, a crowd had formed in front of number 435. The whole front of the building had been blown to smithereens, and passers-by talked about a gas leak.

Rose had half a mind to slap Newt on the back of the head when he cast a silent _Reparo_ as they climbed towards Mr Kowalski’s flat. The building was repairing itself, _in front of_ a crowd of Muggles!

What an idiot.

Jacob Kowalski was a short and chubby man with a very kind face…and a Murtlap attached to his neck.

Upon seeing this, Rose switched into Healer mode and tended to him. Newt was being stupid, and it became quickly apparent that more than a Murtlap had escaped the case, but she kept her cool.

“Who are ya?” asked her patient in a thick Brooklyn accent. “You’re pretty…”

Rose made sure the bites weren’t infected – he was acting like a man with a fever, but didn’t have a temperature – and smiled. “Thank you. I’m Rose.”

“Oooh, you’re British too! I love British people! Especially their scones!” Right. Baker.

“Scones are delicious. Can you stand, Mr Kowalski?”

“Call me Jacob. Mr Kowalski was my dad.”

Ensued a discussion during which Tina – who wasn’t an Auror in this place and time, how sad – said she’d house them all for the night, before going to find Newt’s missing creatures.

Rose wasn’t thrilled by the idea _at all_ , but she couldn’t really say anything or go her separate way: she had to follow Newt for now. Granted, she could have found Professor Dumbledore on her own – Hogwarts had been her home away from home, after all – but long-distance Apparition was extremely dangerous, and she had no idea how to leave America by her own means.

So, she followed.

And tried to focus on Jacob’s symptoms rather than the complete mistrust one Porpentina Goldstein elicited in her.

* * *

As it happens, 679 West 24th Street was a home for single ladies only, owned by a Muggle woman who called mid-way up the stairs to make sure Tina was alone.

If she had been inclined to help, Rose would have made herself known, pretending to be a friend from work. Instead, she remained silent. Honestly, the idea of her tormentor being in trouble with her landlady was rather appealing.

But the thought faded once she was inside the flat.

It was simple and nicely decorated – reminding Rose once again of _Downton Abbey_ – but it was its second occupant that caught her eye.

Tall, slim, blonde and just drop-dead gorgeous, the woman stood in her undergarments – which were less revealing in the 1920s than they would be a century later – and her wonderful green eyes widened upon seeing she had company.

“Teenie, you brought men home,” she said in a surprisingly sultry voice. She looked at all three of her surprise-guests in turn, but stopped on Jacob. A dress was sowing itself next to her.

“People, this is my sister,” said Tina, and Rose gaped. So this was Queenie. The woman she was supposed to save, but from what? Or whom? Surely not from the Muggle who was visibly entranced by her! “Wanna put something on, Queenie?”

“Oh, sure!” Rose looked away while she dressed. Jacob didn’t. And Newt was obviously extremely uncomfortable. He stopped by the window, looked around, and surveyed everything. Basically, he was looking for a way to escape. She was tempted to do the same.

“So,” added the blonde witch, now clad in the dress that was being made a minute prior, “who are they?”

“This is Mr Scamander and his sister,” said Tina almost matter-of-factly. “He’s committed a serious infraction regarding the Status of Secrecy!”

“He’s a criminal?” Queenie seemed excited at the prospect. Bless her.

“Uh hu,” answered her sister almost cheekily. “And that’s Mister Kowalski, he’s a No-Maj.”

Jacob raised his hand awkwardly, obviously smitten. If it wasn’t just the effect of the Murtlap bite.

“A _No-Maj_? Teen, what are you up to?”

“He’s sick. It’s a long story. Mr Scamander,” Newt turned, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “has lost something and I’m going to help him find it.”

Queenie’s face shifted then, from excitement to worry, and just as Jacob collapsed on the couch, she said “Oh, you need to sit down, honey! He hasn’t eaten anything all day!” Rose tensed. Something was amiss here, but she couldn’t pinpoint what yet. “And…oh, that’s rough… He didn’t get the money he needed for his bakery. You bake, honey? I love to cook!”

Newt understood a second before Rose did. “You’re a Legilimens.” Of course!

“Hum, yeah, but I always have trouble with your kind. Brits. It’s the accent.” For the first time, she turned to Rose, who had been emptying her mind of any parasite thought that’d be too incriminating. “Oh, sorry darlin’, I didn’t mean to upset you! I won’t listen, I promise!”

Rose was about to answer, but Jacob beat her to it. Bless him, he was trying to make sense of everything he heard and learnt. She briefly wondered if her mum’s parents had been like that too, then remembered such thoughts were now too dangerous.

* * *

Ensued a scene during which Queenie produced a lovely pastry out of thin air – well, almost, as of course, Gawp’s Law of Transfiguration, all that – and they all sat around the table rather awkwardly.

It was difficult to force oneself to empty your mind when faced with the reason for your being forced into the past. What was Rose supposed to save Queenie from? Herself? Jacob? Who? What?

Newt was seemingly in the same state as her. He was obviously not thrilled at the idea of having his thoughts dissected, and of course, his were as dangerous as hers.

After eating, the sisters sent the men to bed, offering them their room while asking Rose if she was alright with sleeping in the living-room in their company.

She wasn’t, unsurprisingly. Spending the night in the same room as the individual who made her life miserable wasn’t thrilling, or alright.

And what if Queenie listened to her thoughts while she slept?

To her luck – or rather not – Tina soon left to go to the bathroom in the hall, leaving Rose alone with her sister.

The blonde was tidying and cleaning, graceful and overall too nice to be real.

“Oh darlin’, I wish you said what’s wrong…” she launched towards Rose at one point.

“Can I ask you not to listen to my thoughts?” the red-head snapped, before regretting it almost instantly.

“Oh, I’m not listenin’, promise,” Queenie said, unphased. She no doubt heard people ask her to piss off on a daily basis, after all. “But I can tell you’re not happy anyway. Rose, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rose answered, throat dry. “I guess I’m just uncomfortable being so far from home…” And in more ways than one.

“It’s goin’ t’be alright, darlin’, don’t worry. And Teenie won’t harm you, ya know.” She had a small smile. “You look at her as if she was gonna jinx you any moment now.”

Rose felt very bad right then. Of course, Queenie had nothing to do with her sister’s transgressions, but then again, neither did Tina, so to speak. She shouldn’t be held responsible for what her future self did, really.

So she tried to smile. “I’m sorry. This whole day as been weird. I’ll be better tomorrow, I promise. I’m just going to go check on my brother now. Plus, he has my things in his case.”

Queenie grinned, so nice, too nice.

If she hadn’t been American, she’d have been the Hufflepuff poster-child for sure.

* * *

It wasn’t a surprise to find the girl’s room empty when she entered.

Newt’s suitcase was opened on the parqueted floor, and Rose felt better thinking she could spend some time with Dougal and the others to calm down.

So she naturally climbed inside the case, as if she’d done that all her life.

It was almost like coming home…


	7. In which Jacob is the best assistant ever

When she arrived in Newt’s ‘animal kingdom’, Rose was extremely surprised to find Jacob helping the young wizard with feeding and caring for his menagerie. The Muggle was hurrying from one pen to the other, the same gleeful glint in his eyes. When he caught sight of her, he grinned.

“This is _amazin’_ , Miss Rose!”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Isn’t it just?” And it was. It truly was.

Seeing Newt pushing a wheelbarrow around, she hurried to his side. He seemed rather displeased. Or was it worried?

When she called his name, he stopped, but still didn’t turn to look at her. “Kit is missing. Sofia as well. One of the Occamies. And…Dougal.” His voice was broken. It was clear that he felt strongly for his creatures. It was almost as if they were his children.

Rose’s heart constricted just like his, though. She was very fond of Dougal, the gentle and affectionate Demiguise. But, more than that, it was more about the manner in which they could _find_ an invisible creature, a Niffler, an Occamy and an Erumpant that worried her. Although the latter probably would be the easiest to spot.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Newt turned finally, no doubt surprised to find her worried for animals she had known for a couple of days only. “Locating spell. For Kit, anyway. Sofia should have left a trail. For the rest, I...will think about it.”

Without thinking much about it, Rose reached to place a hand on his arm. She was aware that the wizard posing as her brother was not very comfortable with physical contact, but still, he didn’t pull away.

“What do you need me to do, Newt?”

He gently placed his own hand – slightly dirty, but she didn’t mind – on hers, and as gently, pried it off his arm, keeping it in his for a couple of seconds. “Stay here. When I find them, they might be injured, or dehydrated. You know what to do.”

“And Jacob?” They both looked at the chubby baker who was visibly having the time of his life.

“I’m taking him with me. He knows the city.” She noticed how he meant to use _Jacob_ as his guide, and not Tina. She was pleased.

“Then you should hurry while our hostesses are none the wiser…”

Newt nodded and left her to wheel the clean straw towards the unicorn’s pen. She watched him leave with their new unexpected friend, and hoped they’d find the missing creatures without provoking another incident.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking…

* * *

For the next hour or so, Rose busied herself in Newt’s case. She knew she was being carried around, but part of the magic of the object was that she wasn’t physically aware of it.

The Graphorns were a bit restless, and the Mooncalves tried to trick her into giving them more food, but mostly, nothing seemed to be amiss.

At one point, the door to the study/office slammed open, and in flew Kit the Niffler, who was obviously rather angry to have been taken from his little holiday. Rose caught him to check for injuries – there were none – and to bring him back to his little cabin in a tree.

“Stop fussing, Kit!” she chastised the furry thing thrashing in her arms, “You very well know you’ve been a naughty Niffler! You’re lucky I like you at all, otherwise you wouldn’t be fed for a week!”

There. Now she was acting like an angry mamma towards a creature. She was losing her mind…

A moment later, Kit jumped in surprise, just as the ground shook. Rose almost stumbled, but soothed the dark-furred animal as she let him to his home. “It’s alright, Kit. Sofia’s just arrived.”

And she strode off to steer a huge Erumpant back to her pen.

* * *

Said Erumpant was visibly quite unhappy with her predicament, if her little whimpers were any indication.

Rose did not have to wonder for too long, though, as both Newt and Jacob joined her quickly inside the case, and filled her in.

“I was almost trampled to death!” said the poor Muggle.

Newt sent him a friendly but nonetheless exasperated glanced. “No you weren’t.” He turned his gaze to Rose, like an amused parent. “You would have been perfectly safe if you hadn’t spilt that bottle of scent anyway…”

Rose had half a mind to laugh at the affronted look on Jacob’s face when Newt’s demeanour suddenly shifted. It was almost frightening to witness.

When she called his name, the wizard raised his gaze to meet hers. “Someone’s taken the case.”

“ _What_? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, I hid it before Mr Kowalski and I got in!”

Jacob was paling by the second. “Maybe we were followed.”

Newt nodded gravely. “Yes, no doubt about it.”

Rose took her wand firmly. “What do we do?”

“Cast a location spell so we know where we are being taken,” he answered as if that was routine. “And protect my creatures.” His green eyes were hard and determined: there was no doubt that he’d defend his protégés like a lioness if he needed to.

And Rose would help him.

* * *

It soon appeared that the case – and its inoccupants – had been transported to MACUSA. And in Rose’s mind, there was no wondering who could have possibly done it: Tina.

Her already negative opinion of the woman worsened. What did she _think_ she would achieve by bringing them in in the middle of the night?

Newt was in battle mode, or not far off. He paced back and forth, wand squeezed in his hand so tightly it looked like he would snap it in half any moment now.

“Rose,” he finally said, “MACUSA does not know you exist. You have not been seen by anyone except Ms Goldstein and her sister. You should stay in here.” As she was about to argue, he added, “You have no passport, so you are trespassing. If they wanted, they could put you in jail.”

His gaze left no room for argument. And he was right, of course. If she was seen by an official who enquired on her and her business in the US, she was doomed.

So, she nodded. “I’ll look after them, I promise. But what if _you_ are taken into custody?”

“I won’t be,” he said with that peculiar smile of his. “I have broken only one rule, and it’s not a particularly incriminating one.”

Jacob, the broken rule in question, looked like he wanted to add something. But just as he was about to, there was a knock overhead.

Newt readied himself to climb the ladder, and turned to Rose again. “So I have your word? You’ll protect them?”

She nodded firmly. “I swear it on my brother’s life.” And even if her real brother was no technically born yet in 1926, even if her pretend brother was heading towards unknown danger…she meant it.

Newt and Jacob climbed the ladder heading out of the case, leaving Rose alone in an eerie silence. She retreated to the creatures’ pens, casting a warding spell on the door in case anyone decided to come look for what was in the suitcase.

She ordered Frank to take flight, hiding high in his pen. He was one of the most prized of Newt’s creatures, and, after all, the reason for their presence in the US.

She went back to what Newt, Jacob and herself had been happily doing before Tina stole the case: feeding the baby Occamies, checking to see if the Bowtruckles were not killing each other, and cleaning the unicorn’s stall to finally use the clean straw Newt had been carrying around earlier. Thankfully, growing up partially in the Burrows meant she had had extensive lessons with her grandparents about how to clean chicken coops and pigsties, and she wasn’t exactly disgusted by anything pertaining to animal dung anymore.

Rose remembered her pretend brother telling her that unicorns were a little more trusting towards females, but so far, the pure white animal stayed safely away on the small patch of grass in front of her stall. The young witch wondered if she’d been mistreated before being taken in by Newt. She tried to remember her name. It was something Gaelic, but what?

She’d been shovelling the fresh straw inside the stall when the wards rang a sound warning: someone was in the case. The unicorn ran inside, whinnying in Rose’s direction in clear fear. She patted the beast’s nose, and took out her wand before peeking out.

Sure enough, three MACUSA officials – all men – erupted from Newt’s study, wands out. A Billywig flew past, and as one of the men made to send a spell its way, another, the leader no doubt, made him lower his wand. “ _No!_ ” The order was clear enough for Rose to catch. “Don’t harm them. We don’t know what most of those do.”

She recognized the voice before she had a clearer view of his face. This was the same man that had talked to her at MACUSA. The tall, dark and imposing man clad in black and white.

She uttered an unladylike curse, and made sure all three men were out of sight before exiting the stall.

She’d promised Newt she’d protect his creatures, and as all Gryffindors, Rose kept her promises!

She’d snuck out behind the pen when an arm wrapped itself around her and a wand pressed against her ribs.

“I’d advise you not to move, Miss.”

The mysterious man had caught her.


	8. In which Oscurials are rather destructive

Rose tried to fight her assailant, but his wand digging in her ribs started heating her skin. She had nowhere to go.

When she stopped thrashing about, the dark-haired man pushed her against the back of the stall, taking her wand and pointing it at her face. From up close, he was even more charismatic than before. Dangerous. Lethal.

“Who…who are you?” she croaked, thinking about ways to escape. The lion in her never slept, it seemed.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” the man hissed, surprisingly calm despite the anger in his eyes. He pressed his wand into her neck like one would have used a sword. “Name.”

A defiant look in her eyes, Rose answered reluctantly. “Rose Scamander.”

His head tilted to the side. “And you are Mr Scamander’s…” he trailed off, waiting for her answer.

“I’m his sister,” she hissed. “Now who are _you_ and who gave you the right to trespass on my brother’s property?”

She knew she had made a mistake instantly. The murderous glint in the man’s eyes faded, though, replaced by a disturbing kind of interest. “My name is Percival Graves, Director of the Auror’s Department here at MACUSA.” He’d said that matter-of-factly, as if used to repeat it daily. Which was probably the case.”

Shit. It figured that the person she antagonized _had_ to be the Chief Auror, aka the probable most dangerous man in the country.

But he wasn’t done with her yet. “I have all the possible right to search _your brother’s_ property, since a man died because of one of his creatures.” Shock on Rose’s part. She knew which creatures were still missing, and none was dangerous. “Now, I’d really like to know why _you_ are down here, Miss Rose, instead of in our custody.” He took a pace forward and grabbed her face in a creepily gentle way. “Or is it because Mr Scamander does _not_ have a sister?”

Dread pooled in Rose’s stomach and she forced parasite thoughts out of her head, knowing he’d use Legilimency on her. He seemed surprised, but before he could talk any more, one of his men shouted “Sir! We’ve found something!” and it distracted him.

His dark eyes settled on Rose’s once more. “I’ll be back, Miss Rose. And I’ll find what you are hiding.”

He pocketed her wand and strode off.

Rose fell to the ground, heart beating furiously and hands shaking.

She was screwed.

* * *

After gathering her wits back, Rose surveyed what the Aurors had found. As they carried it out through Newt’s study, she saw a bubble floating in mid-air with some sort of angry dark wisps of magic inside. She hadn’t seen it before and had no idea what it was.

Before following his subordinates, Mr Graves turned and sought her out, smirking in a far too creepy way before he left.

So, Rose stopped to think: Newt had been arrested – Jacob too, she guessed – an Auror had her wand; he had busted her cover; and MACUSA had stolen one of Newt’s creatures. How could she make anything right?

She was rubbish at wandless magic. No one in her family was good at it, not even her Minister for Magic mother.

Thinking of her parents made Rose purse her lips. They had never been defeated during the War, had always found a way out even when their wands had been confiscated. She just had to do the same.

First, in lieu of wards, she placed dried twigs in front of the study’s door. Anyone stepping on it would alert the keen ears of the closest beasts: the Graphorns. Near the Mooncalves’ pen, she found a pitchfork, and went to hide close to Frank’s favourite rock.

The wait began. The worry too. What would MACUSA make of her? Would she be thrown in jail?

Then, something crossed Rose’s mind. Graves could have easily taken her with him right then, instead of silencing her presence from his colleagues. Sure, he’d said he’d be back, but somehow, she doubted he’d have been accompanied…

Someone swore in Newt’s office. Loudly, snapping Rose out of her thoughts. She raised the pitchfork, pondering where she should strike the trespasser: the foot? the arm? the leg?

“Rose? Are you here?” The door to the study opened, and the twigs snapped. That being said, the Graphorns carried on pacing peacefully. “Oh please, tell me they haven’t taken her too…”

She tried to compute the voice and what it meant, until another joined. “Don’t worry Newt. I’m sure she’s hidden somewhere. Your sis is crafty.”

That’s when she rose from behind the rock, letting out the deepest sigh of relief possible.

“Rose!” Newt’s call too was relieved, and in two paces, he was in front of her. He didn’t hug her, of course, but she knew he would have if that had been his thing.

Then he smiled his peculiar shy smile, and handed her something.

Her wand.

* * *

An hour later, she was filled in with what had happened outside the case.

Rose was appalled at Graves’ handling of the situation. Even if one of Newt’s creatures had been dangerous enough to kill someone – which wasn’t the case _at all_ – it didn’t justify a cold-blooded execution without trial.

“There is something else,” Tina said sometime during the conversation. She’d remained quiet throughout, visibly shaken with what had just happened. “Mister Graves, he…mentioned something.”

Newt, who had been tidying what Rose had disturbed in the pens, raised his gaze. He looked troubled, and for once, his worried didn’t revolve around his beloved creatures. “Yes, he used Grindelwald’s words while interrogating me.”

Rose faced him, eyes wide. Gellert Grindelwald was almost as famous as the Dark Wizard who’d walked in his footsteps a few years after the former’s demise. His tale was intricately woven with that of Albus Dumbledore, and she’d forgotten that, in this time and era, he was still roaming the Earth, free to murder and plant ludicrous ideas in the minds of limited witches and wizards. Being in any way close to that man was making her skin crawl all of a sudden. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know yet.” And he strode away.

Queenie, who’d been fussing over Jacob – it was sickeningly cute, really – then turned her stunned green eyes to the young red-head. “Rose, why did Mr Graves have your wand on his desk?”

Rose flinched, recalling not two hours prior when she’d been threatened by a stranger. “Well, he and his men came down here and…he wasn’t pleased to find me there.”

The blonde gasped and grabbed her hand. “Oh you poor darlin’! You must have been terrified!”

Had she been anywhere else, Rose would have told her she was a lion and no cowardly snake, but the Americans facing her would have missed the reference. So, instead, she shrugged. “Not really. Although I’ll admit that his taking my wand rather irritated me…”

Queenie laughed, Tina smiled – yes, apparently, it could happen – and Jacob…was chewing on a croissant he’d brought from Merlin-knew-where…

* * *

It soon became rather obvious that the most pressing thing was to retrieve the last two missing beasts: Dougal and the baby Occamy. Newt had his own reasons, of course – emotional reasons – whereas Rose and Tina saw the most practical side of things. If they managed to find them, then they could prove that neither was responsible for a Muggle’s death.

Newt didn’t seem to understand that he could very well go to prison if anyone at MACUSA felt like he was responsible. It kind of infuriated Rose, who’d grown up in a home where the law was the most important thing.

But here, in 1926, it appeared that offenses committed against Muggles were taken more seriously than across the ocean a century later. Rose found it equally stupid and frightening.

“Rose, darlin’?” came the gentle call as the red-haired witch pondered on the differences between her world and the one she had landed in.

She turned her gaze to Queenie and her smile, which turned into a confused look. Rose noticed that the other three had disappeared in Newt’s study. “Where are the others?” she asked, hoping that her question would throw the blonde off her scent.

“They’ve gone out, honey. We all need some air, I think. You comin’?”

Queenie was such an adorable woman, it was impossible to refuse her. So Rose nodded with a small voice, and followed her up the ladder.

* * *

The Goldstein sisters had brought Newt’s case to a rooftop near their house. Jacob was studying the pigeons’ stall, where Queenie joined him, while Newt and Tina stood close to the edge. Rose approached, feeling like an intruder for the first time since landing in this mess.

“Graves always insisted that the disturbances were caused by a beast…” the brunette sighed. It sounded as though she now doubted her boss’ words, which prompted Rose to turn a surprised gaze to her. “We need to find all your creatures so he can’t keep using them as an excuse.” Tina had turned to face Newt, who faced the former Auror in return.

“There’s only one missing,” the magizoologist said, catching Rose by surprise. One? No, there were two! “Dougal, my Demiguise.”

“Newt,” she called, drawing the others’ attention as Pickett the Bowtruckle climbed on his master’s shoulder, “what about the baby Occamy?”

His green gaze, darkened by the dawning night as well as sadness, lowered to the ground. “It’d have needed food, and it was so young… I don’t…” he trailed off, and she understood his meaning.

It was so uncharacteristic of the usually optimistic wizard that, without really thinking about it, Rose stepped off the ledge and came to stand by her fake brother so she could place a soothing hand on his arm. “You never know,” she said, “Dougal might have found it and taken care of it. He’s clever enough.” She believed half her words, but it brought some hope back in his eyes.

And then… Tina smiled. A true, dazzling kind of smile that made Rose step back once more. “Dougal?” the brunette asked, intent on lifting the mood.

It worked.

Newt’s crooked and awkward smile appeared, at the same time as he said “Slight problem is…he’s invisible.”

The look of pure ‘are you kidding me?’ on Tina’s face made Rose laugh. “ _Invisible?_ ”

“Yes,” he answered, ignoring Rose’s mirth. “Most of the time he does, um…” He didn’t finish. There was no need to.

“How do you catch something-“

“With immense difficulty,” Newt interrupted.

Rose then felt a hand close around her arm and she let Queenie gently steer her away. The blonde was smiling widely and, when they were back with Jacob in the pigeon’s pen, she explained.

“They’re having a moment!” she whispered excitedly.

Rose looked back outside, half-ashamed to have had interrupted said moment, and half-angry that it was happening.

So, in all versions of the book, gentle and awkward Newton Scamander _had to_ fall for false and manipulative Porpentina Goldstein?

_Over her dead body!_

“Ya know…” Queenie added with a knowing smile, “ya don’t have to be so protective of your brother, honey. My sister’s not bad, just…” she shrugged, and Rose couldn’t help but squeeze the hand that was still on her arm…

* * *

A few minutes later, the group had Apparated – much to Jacob’s excitement – near some sort of club/bar. Rose had to be reminded that the US was under a strict ban from all alcoholic beverages, and that, therefore, such locations were secret and quite illegal.

They were to meet one of Tina’s former informants there, someone named Gnarlak, and before they did, a wardrobe change was in order.

Both Goldstein sisters magically changed their outfits to pretty be-sequined dresses that made both Newt and Jacob gawp, before Queenie sauntered to Rose’s side. “Let me do yours, honey, please!”

The red-head was most definitely finding it harder and harder to refuse the blonde anything, so she nodded with an amused sigh.

With a flourish of Queenie’s wand, Rose felt herself encompassed by golden sparks. A green flapper dress with matching high-heels magicked itself onto her body at the same time as a feathered hair-band pulled her red locks back.

Jacob whistled. “Well, Newt, you better keep an eye on that sis of yours, ‘cause she’s gonna get a lot of attention tonight!”

Rose blushed under the compliment, even if she couldn’t see herself. Queenie giggled happily at her handiwork, and Newt…seemed rather discomfited.

“What is it?” she asked as he offered her his arm.

“Jacob is right,” he answered, looking everywhere but at her, “I should keep an eye on you.”

Somehow, that phrase made her night…

* * *

“Alright, it’s the _last time_ you are dealing with a Goblin – half-Goblin – whatever that creep was!” Rose dusted her flapper dress off any residue of broken glass or splinter of wood before turning it back into her usual outfit, angered and still high on adrenaline. Or maybe she’d taken one shot too many of Gigglewater.

Newt smiled at her for a second as Tina and Queenie too magicked their clothes back to more practical outfits. “Yes ma’am,” he joked, eliciting a surprised chuckle out of her.

“By the way,” Tina said as they all walked towards Macy’s Department Store, “nice display back there. You could be a nice Auror…”

Rose huffed, partly because of the statement, and partly because any compliment coming from Tina was still like a dagger to her heart. “Nah, never was my cup of tea. I guess knowing how to duel just runs in the family…”

Of course, all eyes went to Newt, who thankfully ignored it.

A few moments later, as they watched Dougal loot all kinds of food in a handbag – Rose had had to fight the urge to just run to the Demiguise – Newt turned to her with a half-smile.

“It appears you were right, dear sister,” he said as they quietly followed Dougal towards a storage room, “he really _was_ babysitting.”

Rose sent him a smug smile as Tina asked for an explanation.

And it was entirely true that Occamies, when grown to such a dragon-like size, were rather scary. But cute.

“We need an insect!” shouted the magizoologist from his perch on a very frightened Occamy a few seconds later. “Any kind of insect, and a teapot! Find a teapot!”

Rose, who’d fled in the same direction as Tina, looked at the brunette. “Right,” she said, brandishing her wand, “ _Accio_ teapot!”

There was a sound of broken china, and _a piece of a teapot_ flew her way.

Amused, Tina smirked at her in a jolly way. “Old-fashioned way?”

Rose nodded before jumping out the way of the Occamy’s for-now massive tail. “Agreed!”


	9. In which creepy dudes are also creepy criminals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I think that none of you, unfortunately, will at this hour be free of the Coronavirus, COVID-19, and its influence on our lives. I'm currently at home, unable to teach or to go out to do what I usually like to. We all are, in a way, touched by the measures and/or, worse, by the sickness itself.  
> I pray that all of you, and that all your families and loved ones, are safe and in prime health. If not, double the prayers.  
> During these difficult times, reading is often what we decide or need to do, to escape this even for a moment. So here's your escape for today.  
> Be careful, not only for yourself, but for others too.  
> xxx

Rose couldn’t help but smile fondly upon seeing Jacob handle Dougal so gently. As soon as they had entered the case, the gentle baker had taken the Demiguise from her with a pointed look at her injured leg, and had brought dear Dougal back to his little hanging cabin.

“You’re hurt!” said Tina as she cautiously approached Rose. Newt had gone to talk things off with Pickett, and Queenie was exploring.

The red-head shrugged, refusing to show how much the cut to her leg hurt. “It’s alright, I’m a Healer.”

Tina still came to sit beside her on the rock, which made Rose wince. The brunette apparently didn’t understand that the reason for it was her proximity. “Are you? I thought we women couldn’t be Healers…”

Shoot. With all that was happening and Newt’s lack of 1920s misogynistic behaviour, Rose had entirely forgotten that she wasn’t in her time at all. So she winced and answered, voice as cutting as diamonds, “Well _I_ was allowed to become one. Fought hard for it.”

It wasn’t, so to speak, a lie. Her father would have wanted her to try for Auror, and her Mum had been persuaded she’d have been happier pursuing a Quidditch career like Aunt Ginny. But perseverance and a good amount of Weasley stubbornness had won her that round.

Tina sighed and leaned in. “Is there a reason why you don’t like me?” Rose’s eyes snapped up to meet the American’s, surprised at the question. “Don’t deny it,” she added, “I’m not stupid. I just wondered why.”

The younger witch turned to face the other more frankly, and sighed too. “It’s nothing personal,” she assured, realising how much of an idiot she had been all along. “You look like someone who hurt me once, and I guess I preferred to keep my distances.” She tried an apologetic smile. “I don’t…” she didn’t finish her trail of thoughts, because saying she didn’t trust easily would be a lie when faced with the fact that she had trusted Newt almost immediately and was already half-there with Queenie too.

“Aaaaaaalright,” Tina answered before outstretching a hand. “Truce?”

Rose chuckled and grabbed the offered hand. “Truce,” she repeated.

Tina nodded and stood to leave. No doubt that she’d go look for Newt…

It left the red-head to ponder the conversation. Her smile faded, and her brow furrowed. Tina had reminded her of what her future self would do, how she’d become. While there were obvious similarities between the ‘two Tinas’, it was also visible that the younger version was more jovial, more optimistic, perhaps, still, than the woman she’d become after losing her sister, son and husband.

She promised herself to give this Tina a chance, to cut her some slack and, maybe, to try and understand why the mission she’d been sent on was that important, after all…

* * *

In the absence of any of her usual remedies – Newt would have to…well…remedy that – Rose cast a few Healing spells that were sure to leave a scar. Not that she didn’t have any. With her brother and cousins, scars were part of the games.

Thunder rolled overhead as she wiped the last of the blood off her leg, and Rose hurried to Frank’s pen, prepared for the worst.

Her four companions were staring at the Thunderbird with equal fear and awe, until Newt clarified the situation.

“Danger. He senses danger.”

“Newt,” called Rose, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “what _is_ that creature that killed that Muggle? Do you know?”

Tina and Jacob turned back to Newt. Queenie, for unknown reasons, kept looking at Rose.

The Hufflepuff nodded gravely. “I do. It’s an Obscurial.”

Rose blanched. She’d studied about those at school, of course, and now that she had time to think about it, it became clear that Hogwarts had added them to its curriculum because of New-York.

She nodded back as Frank made thunder crack once more. “We’d better go up to look at what’s happening,” she said.

All agreed.

* * *

In lieu of a vantage point, they Apparated – still to Jacob’s misplaced delight – on top of the _Squire_ ’s building. Instinctively, Rose took out her wand as soon as she heard the unmistakeable sound of stone cracking and buildings being maimed.

Newt reached the ledge first, while the others remained at the bottom of it. “Jesus,” muttered Jacob just as a huge cloud of crackling black and red passed by, eliciting a gasp from Rose, “is that…that’s the Obscurial thing?”

Newt observed the mayhem that was going on in the city below, ever the studious magizoologist, and said, in a dazed sigh, “That’s more powerful than any Obscurial I’ve ever heard of.”

The mist – the creature, Rose tried to remind herself – was currently eating at some building, the sound of car horns, screams and glass breaking making her skin crawl. How had her parents coped with such destruction and not frozen over in shock?

Newt turned from the scene, and stared pointedly at Tina. “If I don’t come back,” he said as he handed her his case, “look after my creatures.” Then he frantically reached for a leather-bound book in his pocket, avoiding Tina’s eyes as he handed it to her. “Everything you need to know is in there.”

Rose’s gaze locked onto the wizard’s, and the book he’d just given the American witch. Could it be that it was the draft of the most famous Care for Magical Creatures tome in History? The simple possibility of that made her momentarily distracted from what was at stake, until she reminded herself that Newt, her pretend brother – and close to becoming a good friend – was going to willingly chase an Obscurial, which could definitely kill him.

She and Tina shouted at the same time once he Disapparated off the roof. “Newt!” But he was gone.

Tina immediately turned to her sister, handing her the case and book. “You heard him, look after them.” Then she turned to Rose, who was still very much in shock, mouth agape and eyes misty. “You comin’?”

The red-head’s eyes met the brunette’s, and she found her determination, that feline courage and power that came with being the Gryffindor Princess. She nodded once, and shared a look with Queenie. “Protect Jacob.”

Both she and Tina Disapparated away, high on Newt’s heels.

* * *

New-York was in total chaos down there. As Rose landed, all she could see was people running away, cars upturned and explosions, and the Obscurial’s raw power destroyed more and more on its path.

“I’m _so_ going to kill him,” Rose hissed as she caught sight of Newt’s gangly figure up ahead. Without caring much for Tina, who she knew would follow, she ran forward, sometimes casting a _Protego_ to spare citizens grave injury.

They reached a crossroads. On the ground there, was a man whose sight displeased Rose greatly. Percival Graves, the creep who had threatened her with honeyed voice and dark eyes. The Obscurus had pushed him to the concrete, and it seemed bent on attacking the wizard again.

Tina pulled Rose behind a fallen car, and she called: “Newt!”

Rose kept looking at the scene unfurling in the middle of the road, but she could still hear his “It’s the Second Salem’s boy! He’s the Obscurial!”

“He’s not a child!” answered the brunette, and the tone of her voice made the girl at her side wonder if there wasn’t something she’d missed while hiding away in the case.

“His-his powers must be so strong, he’s-he’s managed to survive…” Newt’s voice trembled, although with fear or emotion, his fake sister couldn’t say.

There was a pause during which Rose gritted her teeth, eyes darting everywhere in search for an escape route, away from such destruction.

And then… “ _Newt_ ,” said with fiery determination, “ _save him._ ” Beside her, Tina raised her wand-arm, and hurried away from the car.

Rose let out a surprised yelp, almost ready to call her back, but then she also saw Newt disappear, and she realised she was being a total moron and a coward.

Again, she had to summon all of her family’s bravery records to curse loudly and jump into it as well, casting several Shielding Charms this way and that towards where Tina had just engaged…her boss?

* * *

Rose Granger-Weasley had seen Porpentina Goldstein perform wandless magic what seemed like a lifetime ago – what really was several lifetimes…ahead – so she shouldn’t have been surprised upon seeing her duel Graves with intent, and most importantly, with non-verbal spells.

Still, it quickly, very quickly occurred that Graves was more powerful that his former employee, and with an almost pained “Tina…you always show up where you’re least wanted,” he waved a car in the witch’s direction. Tina narrowly escaped its hurling in her direction, and Rose stepped forward.

“What about _me_ , Mister Graves? Do _I_ also show up unwanted?”

The dark-haired dark-eyed man appeared very much puzzled as to who she was, especially after dismissing two Bat-Bogey curses and a Stun sent his way, until recognition flashed in his gaze and he smirked. Taking two paces forward, ignoring her frantic spell-casting, he answered “Stay here, Miss Rose. When all this is over, I’ll come to you, and we’ll have a chat.” Through the Shield he’d cast, she saw the dangerously maniac glint in his dark eyes.

And then, he promptly vanished.

Tina scurried to her feet, anger in her eyes. She reached Rose in a couple of strides, and stared intently at her. “What was _that_ about?”

“It appears your boss has a thing for me. And it’s creepy.”

“ _Former_ boss,” Tina sighed before wiping some sweat off her forehead and following the sounds of the creature’s rage.

* * *

After another set of agonizing moments where the wisps of the Obscurial’s magic destroyed two more blocks of the neighbourhood, it seemed to slow, and to stop.

“The station,” Tina said, hurrying forward.

Rose faltered when her gaze caught the sight of several Muggle police-officers, visibly injured as their vehicle had been thrown over their legs.

“ _Rose!_ ” yelled the former Auror as a shield formed over the building, “ _Hurry!_ ”

Rose set her jaw and turned to her companion. “Go! I’m not a fighter, I’m a Healer! I’ll take care of the wounded!”

Tina mirrored her expression, and managed to slip inside the shield at the last second.

Rose turned to the officers, pondering. Would she risk lifting the car using magic? Then she realised they’d just witnessed a powerful magical creature destroying half their city: it was safe to say the Status of Secrecy had already been damaged.

So she strode intently towards the men, and when she raised her wand, one of them spotted her and raised the alarm. “Hey!” he shouted, and one of his colleagues, nursing a wound on his head, grabbed at a gun.

Rose cast her spell, lifting the broken car off the two men, who both gasped as the pressure on their legs disappeared, before groaning in pain when the blood circulation that’d been cut off rushed in again.

The witch moved to their side, warding off the gun’s threat by summoning it off the officer’s hand. She knelt next to one of the injured, eyes glued to his wound. “I’m here to help, I promise,” she announced.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She thought it probably was partially because 1920s cars were far less heavy that 2020s cars. Thank Merlin for that.

“Who are you?” asked one of the least injured men. His voice trembled as he raised his own gun.

Rose sighed as she used an officer’s vest to rip some bandages off the cloth. “I’m not a threat, put that down. I’d hate to curse you silent.” It was an empty threat, of course, but Muggles who’d just learnt about magic had a tendency to imagine the worst, she imagined.

He dropped the firearm as if it’d been burning. Still, she could feel the men’s eyes on her as she tended to the wounded’s legs. Beneath them, the ground started shaking.

“It’s that cloud again!” shouted one man.

Rose tried to calm them down, even if she shared their fear. More than she’d like to admit. She was a Healer: her job was to reassure her patients even when all hope was lost. Especially then, she supposed. “You’re safe here. People are taking care of it.”

“ _People_? Like you?” asked the man on the ground in front of her.

“Yes. I’m Rose, by the way. What’s your name?” Doctors usually used this method when about to perform something painful: distract the patient by making them talk about themselves.

“Jack…” the man stuttered.

“Are you from around here, Jack?” Rose asked, gently pressing her wand to the wound, not yet to hurt.

“I’m from Brookl- _aaaaargh_!”

She’d cast the Healing Spell, but to anyone unused to the sensation, it was quite painful indeed to have your bone snap back in place. She smiled apologetically before standing and wiping the blood off her hands…on her dress.

Oh well…she surely looked a mess anyway…

Her eyes went to the barrier erected earlier, and they widened when she saw a MACUSA Auror stare right back at her, and pointedly at her wand. In a breath-span, some sort of door had been opened in the shield and she was being beckoned inside.

With a sigh, she did as she was tasked.


	10. In which Seraphina Picquery is very clever

Once she was inside the barrier, Rose was roughly handled by the MACUSA official, a man between two ages whose moustache seemed even angrier than his eyes. He grabbed her wand before holding her by the arm, hard enough to bruise.

“Are you completely _insane_ , Missy?” he almost spat. “You’ve just broken a least half a dozen rules here! I’ve got to arrest you.”

Rose pulled her arm free, glaring at the man with all the force she could summon. “Don’t be stupid,” she saw his eyes widen when he heard her accent, “these Muggles had just witnessed an Obscurial destroy their city and a shield being summoned not ten feet from them. The Secrecy had already been broken.”

The man hissed, grabbing her again and, this time, pulling her towards the entrance of the train station. “Don’t pretend like you understand anything that’s happening here, _Milady_. You women always try to make it look like you know everything, but you don’t. You’ll see…” He pulled her down the stairs, and Rose couldn’t help but wonder why she was surprised that this man was reacting thus.

After all, she’d been in the 1920s for long enough now that she’d have expected it…

* * *

There were a good twenty Aurors inside the station, a group of which was discussing in a corner while others Obliviated the few Muggles present.

The man handling Rose led her to another male official – and, since she could see several women, she knew it was done on purpose – who watched them approach with a frown.

“Sir,” the Auror hissed, “this…woman performed magic in front of several No-Majs outside. She’s…not from here.”

Again, Rose pulled her arm free from his grasp, and lifted her chin. “As I was explaining to your…colleague, these Muggles had already seen magic being performed, and besides, I was helping them.”

The higher-ranking Auror waved the offending man away and tilted his head to the side. “Do you know what’s happening here, Miss?”

“I do. My brother is downstairs, along with…a friend. I’m Rose Scamander.” Too late to try and conceal her existence now: she’d been exposed, and her fake identity could open doors that secrets could not.

The Auror’s eyes widened, as expected. “Your brother? Newton Scamander? The man who brought this…creature with him?”

“He did no such thing. Let me go to him. You’ll see.”

“The President, it’s the _President_!” spread through the ranks like wildfire, and Rose and the man turned to watch a very pretty woman with an intricate hairdo and an air of complete awareness stride into the room.

To the look on her face, Rose gathered she was very displeased.

“Conner, status?” she barked towards a blonde man who hurried her way, eyes locked onto his feet.

“The…Obscurial, is downstairs, ma’am. Mister Graves has asked us not to follow under any circumstances. The English wizard is there too.”

Rose took her chance and hurried to the woman as well, waiting until her dark eyes were set on her to speak up. “Madam President, if I may… Mister Graves may think he can handle this creature alone, but my brother is your best chance. Let me go to him, he’ll be able to calm the boy down.”

Picquery stared at her, cogs turning in that pretty head of hers for a moment as she assessed Rose from head to toe. “What’s your name, Miss?”

“Rose. Rose Scamander.”

“Well, it seems Mister Scamander will have something _else_ to answer for when all this is over. Come, I may need you.” She gestured to the moustached man to give Rose her wand back, then to the blonde Conner to gather a group of several Aurors.

And then…they headed into the fray.

* * *

The Obscurial had destroyed a large part of the rails and walls in the underground station, going as far as to blow a hole in the ceiling. Rose almost called out when she saw Newt crouching not far from the creature’s – the boy’s – cloud of power. Tina was standing not far, and she was sobbing as she tried to calm the boy down.

And then…there was Graves.

Graves who turned to the Aurors and said “Wands down! Anyone harms him they answer to me!”

Rose hissed and raised her wand just like the others, but instead of aiming at the Obscurial, she aimed right at Graves.

Which Newt noticed, and he sent her a quizzical look quickly replaced by the same fear he’d shown when his creature had been in danger. He was frightened. Not _of_ the boy, but _for_ the boy. Typical Newt.

“Credence!” snapped the Head-Auror.

Tina followed with a much softer “Credence…ssssshhh…”

What a peculiar name for a child. But then again, his name wasn’t what was discussed here; Rose could ponder about it later. Carefully, she took a pace forward, then another, until she stood right behind Tina. She didn’t move further as to not startle the witch or the Obscurial.

But then the Aurors attacked, unbidden, silently casting their curses at the cloud of dark wisps. A cloud that yelled in pain once the bolts of light touched it, amidst Tina’s and Newt’s “No!”

Rose crouched just like they did, watching, powerless, as the Obscurial was destroyed, and the boy that it inhabited with it. It angered her to no end that MACUSA had chosen to _kill_ instead of trying to save him. She stood, glaring at the President who stood at the far end of the line. Now she understood Newt more than ever before.

“How _could_ you? _Why_ did you give the order?” she shouted, drawing the woman’s attention to her as well as someone else’s.

Graves stood behind her, and raised his dark wand. “Miss Rose…” he drawled, and she whirled around, raising her own wand in his face. “I’ll come to you in a moment.” His darkened eyes went to the Aurors then. “Fools. Do you realise what you’ve done?”

He walked closer to Rose, but still didn’t look at her, but rather at those he now wanted to make his victims. The sight of his power, lying still beneath his now falsely calm demeanour, made her think hard. This man, who held such an important post within MACUSA, was nothing like the one she’d stumbled across in the Ministry hall.

His walls were crumbling, and she wasn’t sure she was going to like what was behind them.

“Rose…” Newt whispered, as if beckoning her back to him. But she didn’t budge, and kept her wand trained on the black-clad man.

“The Obscurial was killed on my orders, Mister Graves,” then spoke the President, who’d moved to the front of the line of Aurors.

“Yes,” the man breathed, “and History will surely note that, Madam President. What was done here tonight was not right!”

“He was responsible for the death of a No-Maj. He risked the exposure of our community; he’s broken one of our most sacred laws.”

“A law that has us scuttling around like rats in the gutter. A law that demands that we conceal our true nature, a _law_ that directs us to cower in fear lest we risk discovery.” Graves breathed hard, losing all composure in favour of a truly enraged posture. This time, Rose was certain he was going to strike. “I ask you, Madam President, I ask all of you, who does this law protect? Us, or _them_?” He pointed at the ceiling, at the Muggles who no doubt had by now gathered around the station to see what was happening.

Rose looked over her shoulder and crossed Newt’s gaze. He was determined. And his gaze held something like recognition in them, as if he’d finally understood something.

“I refuse to bow down any longer,” Graves continued, turning his back on the Aurors.

Which was what Picquery expected, apparently. “Aurors…” she calmly called, “I’d like you to relieve Mister Graves of his wand. And escort him back.”

Graves now faced a wall of shimmering magic, a shield to prevent him from leaving.

Rose got down onto the tracks with Newt and Tina, her wand still raised. She knew that this was the last straw for Graves, she could almost feel it, feel the rage and the impatience to finish it all.

“Don’t do anything,” Newt murmured towards his ‘sister’.

* * *

When Percival Graves faced MACUSA’s President again, the fire in his eyes was matched only by the fierce violence of his countercurses, while Aurors showered him with Stunning and Disarming Charms. His shield never wavered, and he used it to deflect as well as target the Aurors closer to Picquery. He was staring right at her, and Rose understood: he was going to attack her directly.

Then, suddenly, Newt stepped forward and launched a creature from his pocket. A creature that swooped up to the ceiling, then wrapped itself around Graves’ arms, binding them tight behind his back.

He turned an incredulous stare at Newt, while Tina Disarmed her former boss.

Rose had a hard time fighting the urge to punch him in the face.

What happened next explained everything, and more.

“ _Revelio_ ,” chanted Newt as he aimed his wand at the disgraced Auror. Graves almost smirked at him before looking back forward, and as Rose, Newt and Tina circled him, his features changed.

Rose had seen people changing back after ingesting Polyjuice potion before – her cousins were professionals at that – but this was different. Graves’ hair just changed, his face just changed, faded from one visage to another without fuss at all.

She knew she had _never_ seen the man now kneeling on the floor of the station, but she knew immediately who he was nonetheless.

“Do you think you can hold me?” ‘Graves’ whispered towards Picquery, who had now walked to him, a murderous look in her eyes.

“We’ll do our best, Mister Grindelwald.”

The man – the murderer, the Dark Wizard who’d only be surpassed in villainy by Lord Voldemort – was then taken by two Aurors, and as he passed Newt and Rose, he stopped to stare at her dead-on.

“As I said, Miss Rose… We’ll see each other soon.” He smirked her way before being brought upstairs.

Newt touched her elbow, drawing her attention to him. And she was ready to collapse, to be fair. “What did he mean?”

“I don’t know…” she answered. “I don’t want to know…”


	11. In which Newt leaves Rose behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! I dearly hope to find everyone here in good health, and surviving the confinement with grace and a smile on our faces. This is a hard time to live in, but we'll get out of it stronger, and reading helps. :D  
> Here we are starting the half-dozen or so chapters that will fill the time in-between the two movies. Hope you like what I have in store and what it means for Rose. ;)

They didn’t really have time to calm down after that. Queenie and Jacob appeared at the end of the hall, and the blonde witch didn’t waste any time in drawing her sister in a relieved hug Tina responded to eagerly.

Jacob, on the other hand, handed Newt a special item. His case. “Hey, I figure someone oughta keep an eye on this thing.”

The Magizoologist took it back, emotion clear on his face. “Thank you,” he breathed towards the Muggle baker even as the President made her way to the group.

“We owe you an apology, Mister Scamander. The magical community is exposed. We cannot Obliviate an _entire_ city.”

Rose agreed with her, but even then: considering she was from the future, she thought it only logical that she’d have known about a magical event in the 1920s that exposed the magical world to the Muggles for good. So, in all fairness…

“Actually,” Newt spoke up, a lilt of pride in his voice, “I think we can.” Picquery turned around, looking at him as if she hadn’t understood him correctly, but Newt still went to place his case under the hole in the ceiling, opening it wide before he called down.

Almost immediately, Frank the Thunderbird erupted from the case, making all Aurors on site gasp in wonder. He hovered gently above the ground before landing in front of Newt.

Rose couldn’t help the fond look that passed on her face.

“I was willing to wait until we reached Arizona,” the wizard told the giant bird, “but it seems that now you’re our only hope, Frank.” He reached to pet the bird under its beak, and Frank bumped his head against Newt’s in an affectionate gesture. “I’ll miss you too.” They entangled themselves then, and Newt produced a vial of a clear substance he showed Frank, who seemed to understand exactly what it was. “You know what you have to do.” And the wizard launched the vial into the air, making the Thunderbird catch it before he took flight out of the station and into New-York’s clear skies.

Immediately, Rose hurried to Newt’s side and, seeing the tears in his eyes, she drew him into a tight hug that he, for once, responded to.

* * *

Above their heads, dark clouds formed and, in a matter of seconds, a heavy rain was pouring down. Newt held Rose tightly, too tightly perhaps, as he explained “It’s Swooping-Evil venom. It can Obliviate people.”

Picquery nodded, and immediately, the Aurors ran upstairs to help repair the city and erase all traces of Credence’s passage. She eyed the group and looked pointedly at Rose then at the ceiling, and the red-haired witch understood the message.

When she and Newt moved away from each other, they turned to the President once more. “They won’t remember anything,” the magizoologist assured.

“We owe you a great debt, Mister Scamander,” she answered. “Now, get that case out of New-York.”

“Yes, Madam President,” Newt answered with a hint of a smile.

Picquery paused, though, and asked “Is that No-Maj still here?” They all turned their gaze to Jacob, fear getting hold of their hearts. “Obliviate him, there can be no exceptions. I’m sorry, but you know the law,” she added when she saw Tina’s pleading gaze. “I’ll let you say goodbye. Oh, and Miss Scamander,” the witch in question felt herself pale, “I’ll see you in my office tomorrow morning. We have to discuss some things.” And she exited the station with her bodyguards.

When Newt and his friends were done contemplating disobedience, they mirrored the Aurors who’d left some time prior, climbing the staircase leading directly onto the street and labelled ‘Subway’.

Jacob was first, and Queenie stopped him from stepping under the rain. The goodbyes were, in Rose’s opinion, even more heart-breaking than Credence’s death or Grindelwald’s reveal, because the burly Muggle had fitted in their group naturally, and in any other world – namely, in the UK a century later – he’d have been able to keep his memories, if, of course, he vowed never to tell a soul.

Life was unfair and so Rose started weeping, not caring if it made her look even more of a mess than before. She couldn’t help herself, and when Queenie stepped with Jacob under the downpour to give him a parting kiss, she let out a pained sob that tore at her insides.

When Newt grabbed her arm and they Disapparated away, she was close to going back and kidnap Jacob, maybe to hide him in Newt’s case. No one would have known. No one.

* * *

The Goldsteins’ apartment was silent, horribly so, for the remainder of the morning. Queenie had given everyone tea, but neither Tina nor Newt could have taken a sip. Rose had scorched her tongue on the scalding beverage, but it had helped focussing her pain and grief on something, so she didn’t really mind.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Tina about three hours later.

Queenie sobbed once or twice more before answering. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” Newt said, voice pained but strong. “I’m going to make sure he gets his bakery. He deserves it.”

Tina nodded with a feeble smile.

And Rose chuckled darkly. “Well, I suppose I’m going to get arrested. After all, I Healed Muggles in the street, and you,” she smiled weirdly at Newt, “concealed me from the President.”

Newt pursed his lips. “I wanted to spare you that.”

“I know. But it’s kind of too late, now.” She smiled and placed a hand on his. “It’s okay. She doesn’t seem too bad. I’m sure she’ll let me go. Eventually.”

“I’ll plead your case,” Tina offered, making Rose feel strangely close to liking the girl.

“Thank you, Tina.”

Queenie stared at her strangely then, furrowing her brow, but she didn’t voice what had her so puzzled. Rose was grateful.

* * *

“Rose, honey, can I brush your hair?”

Rose, who’d been cleaning her dress with the help of her wand – and domestic charms had never been her forte, so she had been struggling with a nasty smudge for a good ten minutes – looked up at Queenie. Understanding the offer as a wish to speak in private, she nodded.

She gestured at the open case on the floor as Queenie sat beside her on the bed. “Newt and Tina are downstairs. Making sure everyone’s okay.”

Queenie smiled and picked up a brush. She started combing it through Rose’s now longer tresses, gently unknotting it. “I picked up on something earlier today. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Of course,” Rose said. She had made peace with Queenie’s abilities now, and knew it was only a matter of time before she addressed her wandering thoughts. “What did I think that puzzled you so?”

“It’s about Tina… It’s _always_ about Tina. When you talk with her, your thoughts are conflicted. As if you don’t want to like her. And then…”

“And then I think of things she’s done that haven’t happened.”

“Yes…”

Rose sighed, placing her wand back on the covers beside her. The dress was ruined anyway. “Queenie, the thing is… My secret is dangerous. I shared it – partly – with Newt, but…the more people know about it and the more danger I put them into.” She launched a smile to her friend, and could see that Queenie was even more puzzled.

“Really? What could be this dangerous?”

Rose didn’t answer right away. She pondered, not for the first time, if sharing the same part of her secret as she had with Newt wouldn’t lift a weight off her shoulders. Plus, the more allies she had in this time, the better, she supposed. Even if she doubted she could ever tell _Tina_ _exactly_ who she was. “I…” She sighed. “I can’t tell you _everything_. But I want to tell you _part of it_. If you promise not to roam deeper than I want you to.”

Queenie’s lovely eyes widened, and she was visibly touched that Rose was placing such trust in her and her Legilimency. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” She tapped her temple gently, and Queenie closed her eyes.

Rose did the same, and thought back to her life with her parents, with Hugo. She thought of Albus, and Scorp. She thought of a Time-Turner being placed around her neck, though she managed not to focus on her abductor’s face as she did. She thought of her meeting Newt, of his immediate acceptance of why she was there.

She thought of the conflicting feelings, and the fear that she was stuck in this past forever.

She thought all that, and when she opened her eyes again, Queenie’s mouth was agape, and she was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Is that…the truth?”

“All of it.”

“ _Rose!_ ” the blonde all but screamed, and she launched herself at the red-head, hugging her as tight as possible. “I’m so sorry, hun! This is _horrible_!”

“Not that horrible now that I’ve got friends…” Rose revelled in the comfort the other woman brought her. “But you cannot tell Tina. Not yet.”

“Of course, honey, of course! Oh but, what are you doing to do? The President wants to see you!”

“I’ll stick to my lie. I entered the country illegally with my brother Newt to help him manage his creatures while he travelled.”

“That might not be a good enough lie.”

“I sincerely hope it’ll be.”

* * *

MACUSA headquarters were as stern as they’d been the first time Rose had visited. This time, however, she had Tina and Queenie flanking her, while Newt preferred to go on his solo mission with Jacob, which she understood completely. His presence might have stoked the fire, and his solitary personality had been surrounded by too many humans lately.

Tina brought her to the President’s office, and after a short wait, she was shown inside, both sisters being asked to wait outside.

President Picquery’s office was soberly decorated, but it still was extremely stylish, just like its owner.

She dismissed the Auror she’d been talking to via Floo Network, and gestured Rose to sit down. “Miss Scamander, please.” She sat facing her, and placed her wand on the desk, as if reminding Rose who was in a position of power. “I have made my enquiries, Miss Scamander.” Rose gulped, having not expected that. Surely Picquery now knew that _Rose Scamander_ did not exist… “It appears you have entered the country without valid identification.”

Rose gasped. She schooled her features, but wondered immediately how Picquery could ask _that_ if she had really been searching for proof of her identity. “I…have, Madam President. My passport took too long to arrive, and I…didn’t want to let my brother travel alone.”

“So I’ve heard, yes,” the President said, puzzling Rose even further. “I must say it’s not often I have the opportunity to talk to a wizard as greatly renowned as Albus Dumbledore, but he seemed rather invested in your case.”

 _Dumbledore?_ Rose contained a yelp of surprise. The future Headmaster of Hogwarts School had talked to Picquery about her? _Why?_ And why did it sound like he had had a tale ready for her to use?

Newt’s letter must have been much more detailed than she’d expected…

“I’m…grateful to him for his help, but…I take the entire responsibility for my…illegal arrival.”

“Which I knew you would,” Picquery said with a small smile. “Now, as you know, your brother is leaving New-York in a couple of days. I cannot, unfortunately, allow you to join him. You’ll need valid papers for that. Mister Dumbledore and I have concluded that you’d stay here, with the Goldstein sisters most probably, until your passport arrives.”

Rose’s eyes were the size of saucers by then, she knew. “You…are not arresting me?”

Picquery chuckled. “No. As I said, I’ve done my research. Such a young lady as you is hardly a threat. First woman Healer working at Saint Mungo’s in London? Someone who saved the lives of No-Majs during a crisis? Who showed obvious disdain towards one of the world’s most dangerous wizards? Why would I think her my enemy?”

Again, information Rose didn’t have _. First woman Healer of Saint Mungo’s?_ When did _that_ happen?

“I…” she faltered. “Thank you, Madam President. I wish there was a way I could repay you for your kindness.”

“There is,” the other woman said, a smug look on her face. “I am missing an employee, and a friend, as a matter of fact. I’d like you to assist those of my men who have been tasked with finding him, and possibly, make sure he’s alive and well.”

Rose understood her meaning at once. “Has Grindelwald given you intel that Percival Graves is still alive?”

“He hasn’t said he’s dead. But he also hasn’t said where he is. Miss Goldstein – who will be reinstated as an Auror effective immediately, but don’t tell her just yet – will be your partner in this. I’ve gathered a team for this sole purpose. I dare say that your knowledge of Healing may be of precious use in this case. Plus, it’ll be a good way for me to keep an eye on you.”

She paused and stood, staring at a piece of rock that was placed on the mantelpiece. The look in her eyes was full of nostalgia, and Rose understood that Picquery’s relationship with the real Graves must have been deeper than shown.

“Will you help us find him?” the President asked in a smaller voice.

Rose nodded firmly. “Considering I could be in a cell right now instead of being offered a job, yes, of course I’ll help you. Gladly.”

Picquery turned back to her. “Thank you. You may tell the Misses Goldstein the news of your stay, and send in Miss Porpentina Goldstein, please.”

Rose nodded and bowed the head slightly before exiting the office.

Well… _that_ had been an entirely unexpected conversation.

* * *

The news of Dumbledore’s meddling in her case was quickly shared between the three friends who knew where Rose was from, and while Queenie had understandably appeared confused, Newt had looked at his ‘sister’ knowingly, which had earned him another hug, one he didn’t seem comfortable with this time.

They celebrated this and Tina’s reinstatement with a meal and some music, and two days later, Tina and Rose took Newt to the docks for his departure.

The red-head had had time to say goodbye to her favoured creatures – Kit the Niffler and Dougal the Demiguise among them of course – and had made Newt promise to write to her almost every day. He’d smiled sheepishly but had promised to try and not forget. Which was enough.

This time she didn’t hug him, although she’d wanted to, but leaned in to kiss his cheek and thank him once again.

“With a little luck, next time we see each other, I’ll be going home,” she said with a smile he returned.

“With no luck, next time we see each other you’ll see Theseus.”

Rose chuckled and kissed his cheek again before retreating back to the entrance of the docks to leave him and Tina to their own goodbyes.

Even if she hadn’t been from the future, she’d have seen the way these two looked at each other, and now that she’d almost made peace with her conflicted feelings for Tina, she was glad and happy for them. Young love, after all, was always lovely to witness…


	12. In which Rose Scamander-Granger-Weasley works for MACUSA

_February 1927_

* * *

For the fourth night in a row, Rose woke up from a vicious nightmare. Gasping, panting and clutching at the throat she had just had slit open in her dream, she tried to calm her beating heart and raging thoughts so as to not wake the sisters up, especially Queenie.

But it was to no avail, and the door to the Goldsteins’ bedroom slid open as the blonde walked straight to her friend’s bed, sat on it, and drew her in a bruising hug.

While she gently caressed Rose’s hair to help her calm down, Queenie murmured a worried “It’s happening more and more often, darling.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Rose calmed her breathing, holding onto her friend tightly.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. But these nightmares, they’re…” Queenie didn’t finish, but a shiver ran through her.

Yes, she was right, these nightmares were horrible. Rose had started having them a few weeks after Newt had gone. It was always the same, or a variation of the same. She would accompany the MACUSA Aurors on location where they thought they’d find Percival Graves, only to find Grindelwald in his stead. Then they all got killed, one by one, until he left Rose for last, held her almost amorously, and slit her throat open.

Those scenes were so vivid and detailed she’d almost think she had the power of premonition. But she knew better.

“I just wish you find Mister Graves soon. Then you’ll stop having those terrible night-frights.”

“Me too, Queen, me too.” Rose closed her eyes and let her friend lull her back to sleep. Eventually, it worked.

It always did.

* * *

In the almost two months she’d spent in New-York, Rose had learnt many things.

One: Tina snored. Very loudly. So, obviously, she’d asked Queenie if she could sleep in the living-room instead of their own bedroom, and of course, Queenie had known exactly why she’d asked and had silently conjured a bed from the sofa. She now did the same every night.

Two: Queenie Goldstein was the best friend Rose had made in those times. She was kind, a wonderful listener, always optimistic, and anytime she needed comfort, Queenie was there.

Three: spending Christmas without her family for the first time in forever had almost broken her. Queenie and Tina did not celebrate it – they celebrated Yule instead, but Rose learnt that their parents had gone for Hanukkah when they’d still been alive – but had tried to make an effort, which had resulted in a panic attack from Rose. She’d spent a whole week curled in on herself, crying, screaming even, grieving that family that she had lost, perhaps forever despite Queenie’s belief that she’d see them again. Tina, not being privy to Rose’s secret at all, had just figured that she was really close to Newt and brother Theseus, and that it was painful to be far from them at that time. She’d offered to call Newt via Floo, but Rose hadn’t responded at all, so she’d relented.

Four: people at MACUSA were jerks. She’d had a taste of it in the subway on that fateful day, but the truth was that men were still very much in control of everything and anything in the world, and they thought they owned it. She was daily smirked at, mocked whenever she did something she shouldn’t have, and leered at whenever she walked. Once, a male Auror had tried coping a feel. She’d cast a Bat-Bogey hex at him so fast that Tina had whistled in amazement. Rose had received a stern warning from the President, along with a knowing look.

Five: Newton Scamander had a _very_ selective memory. He’d sent her a letter the day following his departure from New-York, then one two weeks later when he reached London. And since then? Just a single other one. That was now dating eleven days.

Six: Grindelwald had hidden Percival Graves really well. All of the Director of Magical Enforcement’s relevant places had been thoroughly searched, but no clues had been left behind as to where he might have been taken. Instead, they regularly found taunting notes from the dark wizard himself.

Seven: Seraphina Picquery was a woman no one should mess with. After eight guards had fallen to Grindelwald’s poisonous words and tried to help him escape, she’d signed papers for his tongue to be cut out. Rose had been appalled, and then strangely and disgustingly content.

And finally, eight: Grindelwald had somehow learnt that she was still in the US, and had asked to see her. So far, Picquery had refused, but Rose knew the President was curious to know the reason for his sudden interest in the young Healer.

* * *

“Rose, honey!” She’d been applying light makeup to hide the stigmas of her short night when Queenie’s call came from the kitchen.

After starting working for MACUSA – the idea was still as preposterous as it’d been two months ago – Rose had gone to buy some new clothes with her two friends, using money the President had agreed to lend her, granted it’d be taken out of her wages for that month. Considering she hadn’t even thought about receiving a salary for what little she did at MACUSA Headquarters, Rose had accepted the money and thanked the President profusely.

So, that day, she’d donned a silky red gown with golden embroideries. Namely, she was dressed like the Gryffindor poster-child.

“Coming!” she called back, sighing at her tired reflection in the bathroom mirror before she went back into the living quarters.

Tina was reading the newspapers, nose scrunched as usual when she read something that didn’t agree with her. Queenie was fussing around breakfast, also as usual, a wide smile on her face as she pointed at the table. “You’ve got mail, hun.”

Rose’s eyes widened and she searched for the familiar sight of a yellowed envelope with Newt’s messy handwriting. Instead, she found two. One had been sent by the Ministry for Magic itself; the other was written in an elegant penmanship she had never read before, but felt feminine somehow.

She sighed as she fell onto a chair, and Tina peeked over the newspaper. “No Newt?”

“No Newt,” Rose answered, not missing the disappointed look that passed on the brunette’s face. She grabbed the envelope labelled ‘MoM’ first, breaking the seal, not knowing what to expect.

“ _Miss Scamander,_

_We hope to find you in good health._

_After receiving your demand, we are delighted to announce that your Ministry-approved passport is being printed as we speak. We expect it to be ready to be sent to you within the month, as per Ministry standards._

_Should you not receive said passport within the month, please report the issue to us so that we can investigate._

_Cordially,_

_Miss Eunice Selwyn,_

_Department of Official Magical Enquiries, Ministry for Magic, London, England.”_

“What is it about?” asked Queenie as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her sister and Rose.

The red-head shrugged. “Just bureaucracy’s way of telling me I’ll go home in about a thousand years, I guess.” She huffed. “They’re just now printing my passport. Expect to see me out of your air next year, girls.”

“You know we don’t want you to go, hun,” Queenie provided with a smile.

Tina agreed, still nose-deep in her newspaper. “Yes, it’d be rather dull without you around, Rosie.”

Rose growled at the nickname – she abhorred it – and went to open the second letter.

That one had her widen her eyes and gasp, rather.

* * *

“ _Dear Rose,_

_I hope I find you in good health, wherever you may be._

_We do not know each other yet, but hopefully, that will change. My name is Leta Lestrange; I am your brother Theseus’ fiancée._

_We have announced our engagement to Newt the morning before last, and I thought it only fair to write to you to give you the news myself. Theseus was against it, but we both know the reason behind his stubborn attitude concerning you._

_I’ve known Newt for a long time. We were comrades at Hogwarts, in the same year. He was my only true friend, and I dare say I was his. When we do meet – and I hope it’ll be soon – I may give you more details, but know that, because I know Newt and Theseus so well, I am also aware that you are not, so to speak, their sister._

_However, it seems that Newt has quite completely adopted you, and it made me adamant to include you in the wedding preparations. If we are to be sisters, I so dearly wish we are going to become friends!_

_I know it must be strange to receive such a letter, especially since Newt hasn’t gone into details as to why he had to pretend you were related, but I am asking you to please answer this letter to let me – us – know if you will attend our marriage. I know Theseus would like you to. At least, he will when he’s met you._

_Looking forward to reading you, and meeting you soon,_

_Leta.”_

“Well I _never_ …”

Rose’s blue eyes were the size of saucers, she knew. Never in a million years had she ever expected to receive such a letter, that, Leta Lestrange was right in assuming.

“What is it, Rose?” Tina asked, a hint of worry in her voice now. Rose knew she was thinking about Newt, and she sent her a small smile to signify their favourite magizoologist wasn’t in danger. Well, not as far as she knew, anyway…

“Leta Lestrange is writing to tell me she’s marrying my brother Theseus.”

“ _Leta Lestrange?_ ” Queenie said then, brow furrowed. “I know that name. Newt was thinking about her when-” she cut short with a quick glance to her sister. “It’s strange she’s writing you.”

“Not really,” Tina provided. “If she’s to marry Mister Theseus Scamander, then Rose should be made aware. But why hasn’t your brother written to you himself?”

“Theseus is…complicated…” That Rose could easily surmise.

She stared blankly at the letter for a good while until Tina gulped down her breakfast and announced they were late for work.

* * *

It was one of those mornings when everything was weird.

First the letters, then the arriving late, and then…

“We think we’ve found him.”

The Auror who’d spoken, a man in his forties by the name of Marcus Young, had barely let both women stride into their group’s office before announcing the news, brows drawn and lips pursed.

Tina sighed, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. “You’ve said that nine times before, Young. What’s different this time?”

“It’s completely out of the radar,” he answered as a group of seven Aurors, plus Rose, gathered around a map. A small dot shone golden, away from the city, in the state of New-Jersey. “In the No-Majs’ world.”

Rose pursed her lips as well. So far, they’d stormed through invariably magical locations, each or almost each having a direct connection to either Graves or Grindelwald himself. They’d quickly gathered that, for the Transfiguration spell to work long term, the dark bastard needed his victim close by or relatively close by, so they’d limited their search to the US and part of Canada.

She tried to push away the images that threatened to take over, memories of both thwarted missions and nightmares. Those places they’d searched. Dark, damp, sinister-looking. All recurring in her vivid dreams.

“Where?” Tina asked in a business-like manner while another Auror smirked at Rose, eyeing her stocking-clad legs with kind of a hungry look. She dismissed it, the present matter being more important.

“An abandoned military training base. Apparently abandoned after the War ended. We’ve scouted the area and found traces of powerful magic, including a No-Maj-Repellent spell.”

Tina nodded gravely. “Could be it. When do we leave?”

“1100. Scamander,” he called, eyes darkening as he stared at the British girl. Young disapproved of her and her involvement in this, she knew. She’d seen that look of barely-disguised disdain on the faces of Slytherins all her life. “Will you be ready to intervene should we find him?”

“I’ll be ready, Sir,” she said, knowing that her acknowledgement of his leadership would calm the glares he sent her way.

It did. “Reconvene here in an hour. And do put something more practical on, Scamander.”

Tina looked over at Rose, dark eyes grave, too grave. She waited for Young to walk away before gritting her teeth. “They all think themselves so superior. Judging us in everything we do. You alright?”

Rose nodded gravely. “Not the first time someone has insulted me or the clothes I wear.” In both periods she’d lived in, that statement was true. As sad as it was.

Tina nodded back. “I think this is it. You ready?”

“I guess we’ll soon find out.”

“Come on; let’s go fill that satchel of yours. I’ll lend you some clothes. Even if I’ve got to say it: go to Hell, Young.” Rose smirked at that: she’d have chosen more colourful words to insult their colleagues, but that worked, too.


	13. In which Grindelwald knows how to set traps

The military base they Apparated at was indeed abandoned in the middle of a forest that had started taking back what had been stolen from it. Trees grew their roots above slabs of concrete, plants grew in-between and over pavement, and flowers thrived where had once stood a flagpole.

It would have felt too easy, in Rose’s opinion, if traps hadn’t been quickly triggered as the group passed the gate.

Rose wasn’t an Auror, therefore, she had been left behind the group, to be protected by Tina personally. The brunette’s wand was held high as her dark eyes fleeted left and right. Rose held her satchel tight, her own wand held aloft.

First, there was a gush of wind strong enough to qualify as a tornado. All present had to grab onto either the fencing or each other to avoid being taken away. Once a ‘ _Meteorribilis recanto_ ’ had been cast and the wind died down, everyone doubled in care.

A few feet forward, the ground opened almost under their feet, revealing a snake-filled pit. One man – Vega, he was called – slipped and almost fell, but he was caught by a colleague who then swiftly cast a ‘ _Protego_ ’ to stop the snakes from climbing out of the pit.

“I think we can safely say this is the right place. Grindelwald wouldn’t have bothered setting traps if it wasn’t,” announced Young a moment later. Everyone nodded gravely, although there still were doubts. Traps, indeed, but they seemed almost too easy to counter. Too easy for the likes of Grindelwald

* * *

Ten minutes later, as they got closer to the middle of the base – where the flagpole had once stood – another Auror was attacked. What had looked like peaceful poppies and daisies turned into vicious tendrils of death that climbed up his legs, wrapped around his torso, and squeezed. Rose gasped, almost frozen in terror, when she saw the tendrils grow spikes, and blood running down the man’s sides.

‘ _Relashio_ ’ did nothing at all. The plant merely squeezed tighter. ‘ _Diffindo_ ’ did little good. It was, in the end, ‘ _Lumos Solem_ ’ that made the deadly plants release their hold long enough for Young and Denvers to pull Changretta out of the trap. One tendril tried to wrap around Young’s ankle, but Tina was swift in cutting it off.

“Scamander!” Young shouted as soon as Changretta was lain down on the ground. Rose ran to them, already opening her satchel to search for one of the vials of dittany she had taken with her.

The man wheezed in pain, blood oozing from several wounds on his chest, abdomen and legs. She gently and careful removed his jacket, cutting through his shirt with a pair of scissors.

“His lungs have been pierced. He’ll have to be brought to hospital. I can stabilize him, but nothing more. I lack the necessary equipment.” Her voice didn’t tremble, which she was grateful for, and Young nodded, lips pursed even as he squeezed Changretta’s shoulder.

The man wheezed again, but squeezed his superior’s hand back. “Vega, Monaghan, once Miss Scamander has done what she can to help, Apparate him to S.H.I.N.S. And come right back.”

“Yes Sir,” answered the other two men, and as soon as they’d answered Young, Tina and the rest of their group continued to advance, while Rose turned back to her patient.

She unscrewed the vial of dittany and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Changretta was stabilized, most of the superficial wounds he’d sustained having been closed and disinfected. His lungs were still pierced, though, and aside from the pain it caused him, it also could kill him.

Not to mention that Rose had no idea whether or not the deadly plants’ spikes had been venomous or not.

Vega and Monaghan both gently held onto their Levitated colleague as they Disapparated back to New-York, and to Saint-Mungo’s American counterpart, S.H.I.N.S, the State Hospital for Injuries and Nefarious Sickness.

Rose gathered back her supplies, wand in hand now that she’d been left alone. She searched around her for any trace of the others, but they’d probably entered the building at the end of the alley, since she could see an open door that way.

Careful where she stepped, wand held high and breath itching, she walked forward. In the silence, she could hear every single of her own heartbeats. It made the whole thing much scarier than it should have been.

Traces of fire on the building’s threshold told her that another trap had been disabled by MACUSA’s Aurors, and she gingerly took a step inside, sighing in relief when nothing happened.

The hall she had entered was plunged in darkness. Rose could barely make out the silhouette of a desk in front of her. She silently cast a ‘ _Lumos_ ’, and gasped in horror.

There was a desk facing her. And behind the desk, standing like statues, eyes dark and postures stiff, stood her parents and Hugo.

“ _Mum!_ ” Rose gasped, almost taking a step forward, until she realised they couldn’t possibly be there in 1927 New-Jersey.

The three figures didn’t move at all, but her mother – or what looked like her mother – raised a glare to her. It was as if she could kill Rose with such a glare, and the red-head shivered in both grief and fear. “You have abandoned us.”

“You have killed us,” added a soulless version of her father’s voice.

“You’ll never see us again. You’ve chosen others over us,” finished Hugo’s lookalike.

“I….I….I didn’t have a ch….choice,” Rose sobbed, wand lowering as tears sprang from her eyes, blinding her from her surroundings.

The three figures moved closer this time, walking right through the entrance desk, threatening her. The closer they got, the more dead they looked, with hollow eyes and decaying features.

Rose started yelling in pain and fear, falling to her knees as she pleaded for her family to kill her now, to end her agony…

“ _Riddikulus!_ ”

Blinding light, a screech, a pop.

Rose buried her head in her hands, not even having processed that she’d just been facing a Boggart. In a matter of seconds, she was engulfed in a tight hug, and she recognized Tina’s scent immediately. Even if the brunette had never hugged her before, it comforted her somehow.

“It’s alright, Rose, it’s over, it’s over…”

* * *

A few minutes later, the panic had subsided. Rose still wheezed several sobs, sniffing before she angrily wiped at her tears. She felt weak. Weak, and stupid. No wonder she hadn’t even considered becoming an Auror back home.

“Are you alright?” came the gentle call when she’d calmed down.

Tina was still next to her, but had released her. It was strange, and quite distressing, to be so close to the person who’d sent Rose back in time, therefore conjuring that particular Boggart for her. Oh how she missed the blessed times when said Boggart would just show her a massive spider!

Rose stood abruptly, putting distance between them. Tina didn’t seem to mind, probably putting it on the account of her panic attack.

“Fine. Thanks. Where were you?”

“We’ve found Graves. He’s in some sort of warehouse. But we can’t get in. I heard you scream, so I came back. There are several Boggarts in here. We already struck down two, this was the third.”

Business-like tone, as usual. Tina Goldstein was born to be an Auror. It would have been impressive to Rose any other day.

“Why can’t you get in?” she sniffed as she picked up her discarded satchel.

“Blood magic, we think.”

Rose cursed under her breath, and followed the brunette back towards the back of the building.

“Mind your step. There are Kappas lurking in the corridors.”

Great.

Grindelwald really did know how to properly set traps, didn’t he?

* * *

Young and the rest of the group appeared at the far end of one corridor. Wands alight, they tried to cast a spell that would dismiss the shield of shimmering blue that appeared in front of a glass door.

Through it, Rose could see a crumpled figure. She stared at it long enough to see the man’s chest rise and fall, although it was weak, too weak. He wasn’t even conscious.

“If we don’t get in soon, he’ll die,” she announced, lips pursed.

Young turned a dark stare at her. “We’re quite aware of that, Scamander.”

He turned back to the shield of blue.

Rose then tilted her head to the side. “What did you mean by ‘blood magic’, Tina?”

Said woman answered without missing a beat. “We’re not sure. It’s like it’s waiting for something. Maybe Grindelwald’s own blood.”

Rose snorted. She doubted Grindelwald was the kind of man who’d willingly spill his own blood for any reason possible.

But she knew about blood magic. Uncle Harry had been very clear about it. And her mother had passed a law forbidding such spells. It so happens that Rose – and Hugo – had learnt _exactly_ why their families hated blood magic when Professor Longbottom let it slip one time that Uncle Harry had once visited a dark and dangerous cave in Dorset…

“It needs _us_ to give it blood,” she said simply. “Thankfully for us, I don’t think Grindelwald expected _me_ to be among you. Is someone volunteering to cut into their hand or shall I do it?”

Several men stared at her blankly, obviously not understanding what she was on about.

“I’ll do it, then. Move,” she shoved Young out of the way and raised her wand to her wrist. ‘ _Sectumsempra_ ’ would have probably severed the limb right off, so she opted for a simple ‘ _Diffindo_ ’. The cut was deep, stung, burnt, but the ten seconds she left it bleeding for was enough for the shimmering to tint red, and disappear.

Dabbing dittany over the cut that left a neat scar, Rose strode inside the cell – for that’s what it was – to assess her patient.

Percival Graves was alive.


	14. In which Rose saves the life of a dead man

Rose set to work fast. Graves had been locked in that cell for Merlin knew how long, and he was on the verge of no return. His breathing was so slow it was barely there; he was highly dehydrated; had certainly not been fed properly; and several bones of his hands, arms and legs were broken.

“What happened, you think?” asked Tina in a small voice as she knelt next to Rose. The other Aurors watched her work with various expressions on their faces – mostly, worry.

Rose shrugged. “I think he tried to escape. He’s most probably been tortured too. Grindelwald would have needed personal information to impersonate him for so long.” She used her wand to scan the man’s body before cursing quietly. “I can’t move him,” she told Young, “he’s too weak. You’ll need to go fetch mediwitches at S.H.I.N.S.”

Tina cleared her throat and looked at her funnily, but Young was the one who asked “Mediwhats?”

Rose cursed again. Now was _not_ the time. “Doctors. Go fetch doctors. Now! Every second you waste asking pointless questions is a second your boss could die!”

At that the Auror seemed to get the message. He took Monaghan with him, and they hurried back towards the building’s entrance to Disapparate.

Tina put her wand on the ground, dark eyes filled with pain as she assessed the damage done to Graves. There obviously was a story there, but Rose didn’t have time to ask. “How can I help?” the brunette asked.

Rose gritted her teeth as she produced a bandage long enough to wrap Graves’ freshly set wrist. “Just check his pulse. If it slows down any more, his heart will stop.” Tina nodded and gently put a finger on Graves’ neck. Her face immediately set in concentration while Rose worked.

* * *

She had managed to set three fractures – none of which woke the wizard up, which definitely meant he was in a self-induced coma – before a group of five wizards ran into the room, two of which carried a stretcher.

One of those men, who wore a blue robe with a bone in a star emblem – not too far off from Saint Mungo’s ensign – pushed her roughly to the side, to which Rose snarled and dusted her dress off. “You could at least ask me what I’ve done before barging in like that.”

The wizard spared her a harsh glance, detailing her from head to toe. “And why should I ask _you_ anything?”

Great. Another of these limited men. “My name is Rose Scamander. First female Healer of Saint Mungo’s in London. So, before you decide that what’s dangling between your legs gives you the right to ignore me, I’ve set three fractures: right wrist, left forearm, left knee. He’s highly dehydrated. Doesn’t respond to stimuli. He probably has a collapsed lung, from what I assessed.”

She hadn’t stopped talking once she’d started. After all, Graves’ health was more important than these guys and their ordinary prejudice. Tina was looking at her with a comical expression, while the Head Medic stared at her with a glare that slowly turned into a puzzled expression.

He didn’t answer, merely nodded before he gestured the others to join him.

Rose moved back from her patient, the adrenaline leaving her body as quickly as if she’d stepped into the shower.

Tina came to stand by her and gently pulled her out of the crowded cell. “Come on. You’ve done very well, Rose, but you look like you’re going to fall asleep any second.”

“I can’t sleep now, Tina. Graves isn’t saved yet.”

“Yes he is. If you hadn’t figured out how to open that blasted door, he’d be dead. You saved him. Now, come on, or I’ll Stun you.”

Rose let the other witch effectively pull her outside, pondering what she’d just said.

* * *

If she hadn’t figured out the blood magic, if she hadn’t given her own blood to open that cell, Percival Graves would have died.

Did it mean that she had changed the past? Her family’s past, at least?

What did it mean? What had she _done_?

* * *

Tina Apparated them back to MACUSA to report back to Picquery who, as expected, sent them both home to rest with a promise to return first thing the following morning.

Rose collapsed onto the couch as soon as she was through the door, not even bothering to transfigure it into her bed before she did. Her head fell onto a pillow, and she was out for the count.

But sleep, while not eluding her, was not a peaceful one. Rose was soon plagued with nightmares, a mix of what the Boggart had shown her, an image of a zombie-like Percival Graves telling her she should have left him to die, and Dumbledore’s portrait at Hogwarts telling her she’d basically changed the future so much that her parents hadn’t been born.

In the middle of the night, she startled awake, surprised to see Queenie already at her side, white as a sheet.

“Darlin’,” the blonde said, “you should have taken some Calming Draught before going to sleep!”

Rose sighed. “Don’t worry, Queen. Sorry for waking you. Again.”

“I didn’t go to sleep, honey. Teen told me what happened, and I knew you’d be having nightmares. She doesn’t know who the people you saw were, but by her description…” She gestured towards the mantelpiece. “I bought this this morning, but apparently it does not do much good at all.”

Rose stretched her neck to see a small dream-catcher hanging from the mantelpiece. It was cute, both the object and Queenie’s gesture, and she smiled while taking her friend’s hand. “I have a friend who’d know exactly what’s wrong with it.”

She was thinking of Luna, of course, and then, her brow furrowed when she realised that Aunt Luna was, technically speaking, Queenie’s great-niece-in-law. Apparently, the blonde caught the passing thought, and she chuckled.

“We’ll get used to it, honey. Do you want a cup of chamomile to try and go back to sleep?”

Rose pondered, then nodded. “Yes, thank you. I suppose that a long day is ahead of us…”

She wasn’t wrong.

* * *

Madam President welcomed the whole team the following morning in a meeting-room, brow furrowed and dark bags under her eyes.

Young was in the same state, and Rose wondered if he had had the luxury of going back home at all the previous night…

“As you may know, Mister Graves has been brought to S.H.I.N.S. late yesterday afternoon. The Head Healer confirmed at he had been tortured by means of the Cruciatus Curse as well as some…unknown curses of Mister Grindelwald’s invention. He suffered several injuries and has been put in a medical coma for the time being. However, I was assured that Miss Scamander’s quick assess of his needs and Mister Young’s quick Apparition at S.H.I.N.S. has saved his life.”

Tina patted Rose’s hand in obvious pride, but the red-head was quite unsettled by the attention of her colleagues.

“Mister Changretta is also recovering from his injuries. The plants that attacked him were apparently coated with a heavy hallucinogen, but it won’t leave any psychological scars.”

Rose was heavily relieved. As stressful as the previous day had been, as retorse as Grindelwald’s traps had been, MACUSA had prevailed, and no one would die. It was a really good thing.

“That being said, we will have to wait for Mister Graves to wake up to know exactly what he’s been through and if he can help us with bringing Grindelwald’s group of terrorists down. I will reassign each of you to another task group to track down and arrest any person sympathetic to his ideals.”

The Aurors in presence seemed ready to the task, but Rose knew something for sure: she wasn’t to take part in this. She wasn’t an Auror, she wasn’t even officially employed at MACUSA. She’d been asked to try and find Graves, and now that it was done, she was, to put it simply, useless.

But Seraphina Picquery, as always, addressed her thoughts immediately. “You are dismissed. Miss Scamander, a word?”

Tina stood along with her colleagues and sent the red-haired Healer a smile before exiting the meeting room.

* * *

Soon, everybody had filed out, leaving Rose and the President alone.

If the young woman might have felt rather stressed out about what was going to happen to her in the foreseeable future, the smile on Picquery’s lips was bound to calm her nerves. It was warm, and more than a little thankful.

Which is why she started with a “Thank you again, Miss Scamander, for your help. Without you, I cannot be certain that Mister Graves would be alive today.”

“I only did my duty, ma’am,” Rose answered in a true Healer fashion. After all, she had pledged an oath. In the future.

“Saint Mungo’s is lucky to have you. As for the…usual prejudice that you have faced and will face again in the future, as a fellow woman of power, I can only tell you to keep soldiering on. There might come a time when women are welcomed into any kind of profession. I hope it comes soon.”

Rose had half a mind to tell her that it’d take the best part of the century to get a semi-acceptance from the general public, but it would have swerved into more dangerous territory.

“I am also glad to tell you that I have received news that your passport will soon be sent over. So you will not be far from home for much longer.”

Rose smiled, even if it was a bit strained. “I have received the same news. Along with one that my brother Theseus is engaged to be married.”

“Oh, well, congratulations to him!” The President said with a genuine smile as she gathered papers on the table. “I have heard a lot about Theseus Scamander, who hasn’t, and I’m glad to hear he is settling into marriage. Is the fiancée agreeable?”

Rose didn’t know what to say. ‘She’s from the family of a woman who’ll have a child with the darkest wizard of all a few decades from now?’ ‘She’s a Slytherin?’ ‘She apparently has a history with Newt as well as Theseus?’ ‘I’ve never met her?’ She decided to use what little she knew of Leta Lestrange. “It’s a love match. And besides, if she hurts Theseus, she’ll have Newt and I to answer to.” Because wasn’t that the truth…

Picquery smiled again. “Well, thank you again, Miss Scamander. It seems I owe your family much more than I thought possible. I believe the Misses Goldstein will be happy to keep you close for a few more days. You are welcome to visit us here anytime. But I’m afraid you’ll have to file in as a visitor, this time…”

Rose understood the message. But at least, she was dismissed with the sentiment that she couldn’t come back and was now basically forbidden to.

So as she stood from her chair, she smiled too. “Thank you, Madam President. For everything. I’ll see you when my passport arrives.”

And as she exited the room, Rose both wished it would be soon, and dreaded the moment where she’d have to go back to an England that would be even more severely different from what she knew than the US had been…


	15. In which Theseus Scamander is a very good actor

It took another three weeks for Rose’s passport to finally arrive. In the meantime, she divided her time between visits to MACUSA – where she often had lunch with Queenie down at the Wand Permit Office – and getting bored back home.

Once or twice she had considered visiting 1927 New-York, but she had soon turned back the way she’d come after several rather rude remarks about a lonely unmarried woman roaming the streets during the day. She figured she shouldn’t tempt the devil.

Percival Graves had not woken up from his coma yet, but the doctors at S.H.I.N.S. still saw some improvement in his responses. Madam President hoped he’d wake in time for summer, which, apparently, was his favourite season.

Rose had finally received a letter from Newt, albeit a very short one, telling her that when her passport _did_ arrive, he wouldn’t be able to welcome her back home, having _a lot_ to do regarding his creatures. She wasn’t surprised, nor was she offended. Newt was Newt: she was glad she’d see him again, but hadn’t expected a welcome back party either.

* * *

The day of her departure, Queenie magicked her a lovely dark blue gown that greatly resembled the one the blonde herself had been wearing the day they met. She helped Rose tame her short curls and applied a little makeup to hide the fact that she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink the previous night.

When they arrived at MACUSA, Tina was already at work, although she had promised to be there when Madam President would send her away via Portkey.

Queenie had linked their arms together, and the sour look in her lovely green eyes told Rose everything she needed to know: her friend wasn’t happy to let her go, especially now that she knew she wasn’t really going home.

Rose squeezed her fingers gently, drawing the green gaze to her. “I’m going to be okay, Queen. Newt will be there. And our brother, and his fiancée.”

Queenie pursed her lips. “If anything happens, you send me a letter right away.”

“I promise.”

“You better.”

They knocked twice on the President’s office’s door, and waited for the call ‘Enter!’. Tina, along with Young, the Auror, and another person Rose had never seen but looked strangely English – tartan waistcoat and perfectly combed moustache? it screamed British – were already there, postures stiff as if they’d rather be anywhere but there.

“Ah, Miss Scamander, Misses Goldstein, welcome,” the President greeted them kindly. “I don’t think you’ve met Mister Clovester, Miss Scamander. He’s part of the Portkey Division back in your London.”

Rose smiled at the man. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise, Miss Scamander.” He paused, gesturing the President to carry on.

“Miss Scamander,” Madam Picquery continued, “once again, I thank you for all that you have done for MACUSA these past few months. Your help has been invaluable, and I expect I’ll hear more about your achievements in the future.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Mister Young and I are making sure everything is in order for your departure. Mister Clovester here will now explain the procedure.”

The smaller man cleared his throat, producing a case he clicked open. Inside was a single object, no doubt the Portkey – it emitted a soft blue hue – that was apparently a hand mirror. Rose tried not to be offended by the obvious sexism in such a choice.

“Once you have said your goodbyes, Miss, we will grab onto this item, and it will bring us to the United Kingdom. For safety purposes, we will not land in London, but rather in the countryside, near Birmingham. Your older brother, Mister Theseus Scamander, is waiting for us there, along with another Ministry Official who is to check that your passport is in order. After that, you and your brother will be free to go back home.”

Rose felt a lump form in her throat. _Home_. She didn’t have a home. Not anymore. And what would Theseus Scamander be like? What would he think of her? Would he be aggressive towards her? Would he leave her in the wilderness to starve and die?

Queenie squeezed her hand again. “Breathe, Rose,” she whispered. “Remember: Newt will be there.”

Rose nodded to herself, and turned to Tina this time. “Teen…” The brunette walked to her and took both her hands, dark eyes suddenly filled with tears and smile tight. “I’m so sorry I’ve treated you badly when we first met. You are an amazing person, and I hope we see each other soon. Newt would like that.”

Tina chuckled. “Don’t say things that you will regret, Rose. I’ve liked your time with us too, and I’ll miss you. Write to us, will you?” She smiled once again, and took a pace back, not initiating even a hint of a hug. Rose didn’t mind: Tina appreciated appearing tougher than she was when in the presence of prejudiced men.

Queenie didn’t bother. She drew Rose into the tightest hug ever, which the red-head received with great relief.

“Safe travels, little sister,” the blonde said, moving Rose’s heart. “Remember we’re here, and Newt is here too. You are not alone.” She repeated those words two times more before releasing her as well.

Another nod and thank you to the President later, Rose was grabbing onto a hand mirror with a small tartan-clad man, and a hook took hold of her behind her navel…

* * *

Colours flew by her for what seemed like ages, but Rose didn’t heed them. Emotions and memories battled in her mind, making her sob uncontrollably, her tears flying around as she was pulled from one continent to another.

The last time she had used a Portkey, she had just been torn from her century, from her family, from her future. From her life.

Now, barely four months later, she was being pulled to a place that should be home, but that would be as unwelcoming and dangerous to her than another planet altogether…

It was not surprising that, when they landed, Rose fell to her knees into the grass.

Mister Clovester who, unsurprisingly, had landed on his feet, came to offer her a helping hand, but she shook her head, and he moved back, eyeing someone Rose didn’t see right away and who came closer at once, offering his own hand to her.

Rose raised her eyes and met those, grey with flecks of green, of Theseus Scamander.

* * *

Dazedly, she took his offered hand and let him pull her to her feet, where he embraced her tightly, like a brother would. Rose knew it was for appearances’ sake, and wrapped her own arms around this stranger’s body, plastering a fake smile onto her lips as she knew he did the same.

“Welcome back, sis,” he said in a deeper voice than his looks suggested. He looked much younger than his thirty-five years of age. In certain angles, he’d almost look younger than Newt himself. The same chin, same dimples, same freckles, same lanky stature: they couldn’t possibly deny they were related.

But Theseus Scamander was a war hero, an Auror. She doubted he would be as easily accepting as his younger brother when it came to her…

“Thank you, Theseus,” she answered, not daring to use a pet name with someone she expected to kill her any moment.

“Miss Scamander,” then called another voice. It belonged to a petite brunette woman who was standing a few feet away, holding a register and a quill. “May I see your passport? When I’ve checked it, we can all be on our way home.”

Rose smiled again and produced the small square of paper that she had been given the day before at MACUSA. “Of course.” With a timid glance towards her ‘brother’, she handed it to the official.

With several thoughtful noises, the brunette handed it back with a tight smile. “All is in order. Good day to you, Miss and Mister Scamander.” With a ‘pop’, she and Mister Clovester Disapparated in the same beat.

* * *

It didn’t take Theseus two more seconds to grab Rose’s arm and to pin her down with a glare that could have killed a wild boar on a chase while he planted his wand on her throat like a knife.

“ _What do you want with Newt?_ ” he hissed, all hint of warmth gone from his eyes that were now as dark as a tempest.

He’d faked happiness rather well moments ago, Rose was impressed. So impressed, in fact, that she surprised herself with stuttering when she answered. “I-I-I don’t wish him-him any harm, I swear.”

“Then why are you here?” he hissed again.

“I-I… England is my _home_.” That was the truth, wasn’t it?

With a shoving movement, Theseus pushed her back, lifting his wand. Rose drew her own immediately, expecting him to try and curse her. She was as tense as she’d been back in Hogwarts in Duelling Class. “You have a lot of explaining to do. I’m not Newt: I’m not going to fall for false pretences.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Then why did you play along right then?”

Theseus’ eyes darkened, if it was possible. “To spare my brother the humiliation. He’s painted quite the adorable picture of you, _dear sister_. And if his lie goes out into the open, then his reputation won’t recover. Not this time.”

Protective older brother. She would have bet on it. After all, Newt was the kind of person who drew that out of a person: the need to protect him from harm.

She lowered her wand slightly. “I’ll explain if you take me to him.”

“Or what?” he answered, a hand in his pocket, his wand still raised, as if he didn’t think her a threat at all.

“You might be an Auror and famous, for whatever reason, but I can duel.”

He could have been impressed. Or not at all. Instead, he snorted. “Newt warned me. You’re a damned Gryffindor, aren’t you?”

Rose growled, a pastiche, she was sure, of her House’s fierce lion. “Got a problem with that, Badger?”

To her surprise, Theseus’ lips lifted at the corners, as if he was fighting a smile. He flicked his wrist, and Rose could not stop her wand from flying off her grasp and right into the hand that had left his pocket. “You will get this back when I trust you. Come on, _sister_. I’ll bring you to Newt’s house.” He lifted his wand, pointing it to the skies, and Rose realised he was summoning something. A second later, he had an umbrella in his hand. “It’s raining in London.”

Still stunned after his display of magic, and reeling because of her lack of wand, she huffed. “When isn’t it?” Rose countered without thinking, prompting another half-smile from the Auror. He offered her his arm, and with a suspicious look, she took it.

She really didn’t know what to make of this first meeting…


	16. In which Rose Granger-Weasley is adopted in the Scamander family

Theseus pulled Rose into a Side-Along Apparition that brought them to a suburb of London. She didn’t recognize the street, partly because all the houses looked exactly the same, and partly because of the downpour.

“Come on, Newt’s house isn’t far.” The tall Auror strode on, his umbrella held high above his own head while she…was left to be soaked under the English rain.

She cursed and wished she could discreetly cast an _Impervius_ on her clothes and face. Of course, she couldn’t, because her guide had pocketed her wand. She reckoned he must have enjoyed the thought of her catching her death under the rain, just to torment her. Bastard.

Theseus brought her a couple of houses down the street, which curved slightly, as did many other such residential streets all around the capital. Rose remembered Uncle Harry’s strange house in Grimmauld Place, though he’d since moved out and offered it to the Ministry who’d done who knew what to it.

“This is it,” her guide said a moment after stopping in front of number 9. Rose looked around, trying to find a street name, anything that could orientate her.

“Where are we?” she asked when nothing caught her eye.

Theseus’ gaze darkened. “You’ll know that when I’m sure you’re not a threat. Get inside, the door’s unlocked. Usually is.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice, and Rose understood that the lack of lock was Newt’s doing, and that his older brother found it imprudent. She tended to agree.

* * *

Newt’s house, at least what she first saw of it, was cute, not necessarily heavily decorated, but practical, and somehow reminded her of what it looked like inside his case. The kitchen was reminiscent of it too.

She carefully walked into what looked like the dining-room, clocked a box of bandages that Newt had left on the table, and looked around, trying to find her pretend brother and only ally for miles around.

Theseus followed her and took his coat off, folding it on the back of a chair. “Newt?” he called, loudly enough for Rose to wince. He seemed pleased with himself.

Dripping water, hair ruined and nose itchy, she glared at him until they heard hurried footsteps from outside the room. A moment later, the red head of Newton Scamander was appearing, a ball of fluff in his hands, flushed, braces down on his hips and shirt in disarray.

“Oh,” he said when he saw who his visitors were. “I’d forgotten it was today.” He turned to Rose, a small smile on his lips that immediately turned into a frown. “Rose, why are you all soaked?”

She chuckled. Typical Newt. No hug or anything remotely affectionate in store, just practicalities. “ _Our_ dear brother here has confiscated my wand and did not let me share the shelter of his umbrella.” She smirked in Theseus’ direction. He returned it, unfazed.

“ _Theseus!_ ” Newt sounded scolding, and took his wand from his back-pocket – she’d have to warn him about that later – before casting a charm that warmed her from head to toe and dried her hair and clothes in a second.

“Thank you, Newt. What’s that?” she asked, taking her coat off herself and gesturing toward the small animal he still had in his hands and which she couldn’t properly see.

“Oh, it’s a…baby Niffler,” he said with such affection that she was almost jealous. She got close, and saw that, indeed, it was an adorable baby Niffler. Its coat was a lovely shade of blue-grey. She cooed at it, and he smiled. Somehow, in a matter of seconds, they had fallen back into their odd routine: he taking care of his creatures and she marvelling at them.

“It’s absolutely _adorable_! Is Kit the lucky father?”

“He is. Don’t congratulate him, though, he has a tendency to brag about it.” It would have been a joke, but it wasn’t. Newt was actually serious, and Rose now knew better than to mock him for it.

Theseus then cleared his throat, shaking them off their lovely little bubble. “Newt. I need answers. _Now_. Nifflers, later.”

The younger Scamander stared at his brother blankly, then blinked twice before exclaiming “Oh, right, I’d forgotten about that too!” He whirled around and ran out of the room for a moment, supposedly to go and put the baby Niffler back into its nest.

Rose chuckled upon seeing Theseus shake his head in disbelief. “I’ll never grow tired of him doing that.”

“Believe me,” the Auror answered, “if you’d lived with him all your life you wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about it…”

She crossed her arms. “Actually, my brother was the exact same. I guess it’s just a question of open-mindedness…” Of course, it wasn’t entirely the truth, but explaining who Lorcan and Lysander were was going to be too complicated and awkward. Better to spin little lies.

The glare he sent her was fierce, but somehow, Rose didn’t care.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at the dining table, Newt having summoned a cup of tea for Rose – not for Theseus – and currently fidgeting with his wand, eyes fixed upon something on the wood.

His older brother was not impressed. “I hope you do realise that your little charade has created quite the stir over here, Miss Rose,” he started, voice stern, eyes hard and steely.

She sipped the warm tea and winced at his words. “I was not supposed to stay so long. But I can imagine it caused problems.”

“Yes, it did.” He pursed his lips, turning his gaze to his brother. “Newt, care to explain?”

“Explain what?” asked the red-haired wizard, green eyes still affixed upon the table.

Rose smiled. “Newt, if you’d rather be downstairs, I can handle your brother alone.”

Newt raised his gaze then, meeting hers for a second. He was tempted to accept, she knew, could feel it. His whole demeanour meant he’d rather be anywhere than there. “ _Our_ brother,” he chose to say. “Theseus wants me here” was his second statement.

“Yes, I do. You’re responsible too.” Rose turned back to the Auror glaring at her even more. Was he vexed because she’d said she could ‘handle’ him? If it was the reason, she was pleased. “Now, from the top. Who are you, why are you here?”

Rose knew there was no backing off. His job was to interrogate Dark Wizards, she was a Healer from the future, she would not compare. “My name is Rose. I cannot tell you my last name. I arrived here by accident. I stumbled upon Newt who offered to help me get back home.”

“What accident was that?” Theseus was twirling his wand in-between his fingers, completely aware, she knew, that it was worrying the person he was questioning.

Instead of answering right away, Rose turned to Newt, and bit her lip. “Can I trust him with this?” she asked him.

The magizoologist was visibly shocked she was asking such a question. His eyes widened, he opened and closed his mouth several times, and then, at long last, he answered “Yes, of course.”

To which she turned back to the grey-green gaze of the eldest Scamander, breathed in, and said “I’m from the future.” Then, because it suddenly needed out all at once, she carried on in the same breath. “Someone abducted me, forced a Time-Turner around my neck and sent me back a whole hundred years in the past. The Time-Turner turned into a Portkey a few moments after I landed, and I found myself in Newt’s cabin in the middle of the Atlantic.”

Theseus’ face hadn’t budged during her whole speech. No muscle had moved. He was like a statue. The only give-away was his eyes, stormy and filled with questions, anger also, and a slight tinge of worry. “Do you know who and why?”

“Yes to both questions.” Newt raised his head at that. When they’d met, she hadn’t known why Tina had sent her back. She now did. “I can’t tell either of you. It could change too many things.”

Theseus regarded her severely, and sighed. “I guess you’ve tested her, brother?”

Newt nodded. “Veritaserum. She’s telling the truth.”

“And you’ve told Dumbledore.”

“I wrote him almost immediately after. Rose needs help getting home, if it’s ever possible. And she needed to exist.”

That word had, of course, a larger sense than Rose would have understood at first. Newt meant that she needed to be covered, to be present in records, to exist as a citizen of 1926 – now 1927 – in order to survive.

She sighed. “I now realise it must have taken him a long time to forge my entire background.”

“He didn’t do it alone,” hissed Theseus, to her surprise. Upon seeing her furrow her brow, he explained. “The Ministry asked me about you as soon as MACUSA enquired on you. I had to admit to having an adopted sister, explain why she wasn’t present in records. Dumbledore forged Hogwarts’ records to show a Rose Carter who became Scamander aged fifteen after the death of her parents. Confunded a few people too, apparently.” He stared pointedly at her. “And you are the first female Healer working at Saint-Mungo’s, although no one there knows it. Yet.”

* * *

Silence fell upon the room. Rose computed all that Theseus had told her, all that she had had to admit too.

She was now officially a member of the Scamander family. Adopted, which was more easily explainable. She’d attended Hogwarts, apparently. A small, stupid part of her wished she’d remained a Gryffindor over here too. As for her job…it was complicated.

“I think ‘thank you’ will not suffice,” she finally managed to say, gripping her teacup so hard she could break it in two. “You and Professor Dumbledore did so much for me…when you didn’t have to…” She met Theseus’ gaze, surprised to see him softer, calmer than before. “I hope I can be out of your air soon, but in the meantime…thank you. Really.”

He nodded, once.

And Newt stood from his chair. “Well, then, if you’re done interrogating poor Rose, maybe I can go back to the baby Nifflers!” He half-turned from the scene, then launched “Theseus, give her back her wand, will you,” before disappearing in what looked like the kitchen.

Rose couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. She stopped when her wand was delicately put in front of her on the table.

She met Theseus’ gaze. He dropped his voice, maybe unwilling to let his brother hear. Although ‘hear’ and ‘listen’ were two different concepts when it came to Newt. “I still have a lot of questions.”

“And I would have been surprised if you hadn’t. I’ll answer them, if I can. But not today.”

He nodded once again, and sighed. “Tell Newt I’ve gone home. Leta is waiting for me.”

Rose blushed a bit, remembering the letter she’d received a few weeks prior. “Oh. Of course. Say…uh…tell her…uh… Safe travels, _brother_.”

He smirked, and left.


	17. In which Rose is around familiar bearings

After that, Rose settled in with Newt as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His house having got three bedrooms, she invested one that was away from Newt’s, knowing from experience that he liked to be up at all hours of the night, and that he wasn’t always aware that there was another human being in his vicinity.

She’d reunited with his creatures, or at least those she already knew. Dougal spent most of his time draped around her shoulders, when he was not babysitting the baby Nifflers; and Kit had already smuggled in her bedroom a couple of times to try and nick a few shiny things.

Newt’s basement had been transformed into a complex work of art that reminded Rose of the staircases at Hogwarts: each set led to a completely different habitat, be it forest, desert, plains, mountains, or even a huge lake where were currently swimming a couple of Grindylows. The magizoologist had perfected his case’s system, and she was marvelling at it every time she went down to help or just to spend time with some of his protégés.

He hadn’t asked of her that she take care of the house. At all. Every evening, he cooked dinner and washed the dishes. He had already casted a few housecleaning spells in her presence; all in all, the complete opposite of a macho. She knew why, though: he was so used to living alone that he was loath to change a single thing in his well-working routine.

It endeared her to him to no end, this kind of childish behaviour that he showcased daily. Rose was a Healer, and Half-Blood, meaning she’d read many medical books from the Muggle world. Newton Scamander would have been diagnosed with a certain ‘condition’ in her time. It was called ‘autism’, and it touched extraordinary people.

* * *

She’d been writing Queenie – as she did every week – when Newt slammed the door to the basement closed, startling her and the dozing Demiguise on her shoulders. Dougal phased, cooing in fear before he realised it was his carer who’d come back up with such anger.

Rose raised her gaze from her letter, brow furrowed. “Newt? Everything okay?”

He paced back and forth in front of the coffee table she was sat at, scratching behind his ear as he shook his head frantically. “I’m sorry, I just forgot! I forgot, what an _idiot_ I am! Sorry, Rose, so sorry!”

She put her quill down and stood, gently prying Dougal off of her. The gentle creature walked to the basement door and opened it, disappearing back to his pen with one last glance to the two people. "Calm down, Newt. What have you forgotten?”

“We were supposed to go see Dumbledore two days ago, and I _forgot_! You wanted to see him to find a way back to your home, and I forgot...” He continued to pace, and continued to apologize, raising his voice gradually.

Rose approached him slowly, not reaching to touch him, but close enough to bring his attention back to her. “Newt,” she started, repeating it louder when it had no effect, “Newt!” The wizard stopped his pacing and turned wide green eyes to her. She smiled. “There is nothing to apologize for. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore won’t be angry at you for forgetting one meeting.”

“And you?”

“I’m not either.” And she wasn’t. Hugo was also quite forgetful, and after a few fights over it, she’d decided that it was just the way he was, and that he didn’t wish any harm out of it. Newt was the same. Obviously, he was meaning well. “Can you send him a message, to reconvene?”

He seemed to ponder, eyes fixed upon her face, for once. She remained still, kept the smile on her face, a way for her to show that she was honest and that she truly wasn’t angry. “Lylah isn’t home.”

Right. Lylah, the bright pink Fwooper he’d sent the last time. Rose nodded. “Then maybe, in lieu of a letter, we could send a Patronus?” They’d mentioned it once before, he’d asked her if she could warn him using a Patronus. She’d said yet, because it was the truth. She didn’t know if _he_ could do it, though.

“I… My… I left school a bit early…” he didn’t carry on, and averted his eyes, as if ashamed.

Rose reached out this time, unable to stop herself as she gently took his hand to bring his gaze back to her. “Patronuses are extremely difficult to conjure, Newt, even for seasoned witches and wizards. My mother – who is the brightest witch of her age, literally – still has trouble with hers.” She smiled, and released his hand. “I can do it, if you want. And, later, I could teach you. If you want,” she repeated.

He smiled a little, then turned to leave the room, too much human interaction having finally made him uncomfortable. “Thank you,” was the last thing he said.

Rose shook her head gently, eyed the unfinished letter on the coffee-table, and sighed, taking her wand out of her sleeve to send another message first.

* * *

Rose’s Patronus had manifested as a blob of white light the first dozen times she’d tried to conjure one. Selfishly and stupidly, she’d tried using her feelings when on a broomstick. Uncle Harry had laughed when she’d explained, then announced that he’d done the same the first time, and had failed miserably.

In the end, ‘all’ it took to conjure a corporeal Patronus was to summon a memory of the whole Granger-Weasley-Potter-Lovegood-Scamander family around a huge table at the Burrows, smiling and laughing amidst the succulent meal cooked by Grandma Molly.

It wasn’t surprising that the form her Patronus took was that of a lioness. Although her family was rather discomfited with their assortment of stags, otters, horses, hares and terriers. Hugo’s, when he learnt the spell, finished to amaze everyone into a stupor. And, to this day, Rose was persuaded that his dragon Patronus was just a way to show-off.

Her lioness was cleaning one of her paws, lounging on the living-room’s carpet, glowing silver and white. Rose was reciting her message, slightly annoyed at the fact that a cat Patronus would act like a cat, and not care one bit about what she said. Go figure.

“Professor Dumbledore, my brother Newton apologizes profusely for forgetting our meeting set for a couple of days ago. There is so much to do here, as I’m certain you know. I would like to settle a new date for said meeting, as soon as possible considering the subject we wish to discuss. Looking forward to meeting you in person, Miss Rose Scamander.” There. She was keeping appearances intact, in case the message caught him in the company of someone else; but she was also reminding him of the urgency behind her enquiry.

How was she going to go back home?

That is, if she had already saved Queenie from her fate…what if she hadn’t?

Suddenly, this whole ‘mission’ thing was more complex than ever…

With a flick of her wand, the lioness jumped back onto her paws, alert. She nodded once before turning into a ball of light that promptly flew out of the room and into the world. Rose sighed, and closed her eyes.

Then, she turned back to her letter to Queenie…

* * *

Professor Dumbledore’s answer came perhaps thirty minutes later, taking the form of a bright and beautiful phoenix-shaped Patronus that perched on the back of a chair and stared at the witch who’d been finishing the address on her letter’s envelope.

“ _Miss Rose, as you said, there is nothing to forgive,_ ” began the bird-figure in its owner’s voice. She wouldn’t have guessed the velvety quality to it, nor the slight Irish accent peeking through. “ _We are both familiar with Newton’s ways. If it is alright with you both, we could meet this next Saturday for tea. Looking forward to meeting you in person, as well, Albus Dumbledore._ ” The phoenix took flight and vanished, having delivered its message.

Rose stared at the table, quill still raised dangerously over her envelope. She sighed then took two steadying breaths and summoned her lioness once more, this time to simply agree to the date and time. Newt would have to alter his plans, if he’d had any.

She thought hard about adding a P.S. to her letter, then chose to wait until after meeting the famed Professor to tell Queenie all about it.

If she’d had had her family close in that moment, she’d have loved to ask her mother why she’d never mentioned that Professor Albus Dumbledore had a sexy voice…

* * *

That Saturday, Newt brought Rose to the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently, the easiest way to get to Hogwarts at this time of year was by Floo Network. They’d land in the Three Broomsticks, and walk the distance between Hogsmeade and the school. It was a sound plan.

She had decided to dress casual that day. Her hair, that she had gotten used to wearing longer than usual, was curling past her shoulders. She’d adopted Tina’s pantsuits quite quickly after coming back to England – since she was rarely outside the house and wouldn’t meet anyone who’d judge her for it – but she had instead opted for a flowing dress of summer green with a blue belt that matched her slippers and hat.

What Rose hadn’t accounted for, however, was the immense emotional distress that being back in familiar places would invoke in her.

The moment they stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron – still looking the exact same as she remembered, although one century separated her from the ‘last time’ she’d been there – she was overwhelmed by too many emotions. A large table in the corner summoned a memory of her family gathered around it the day before school began; the counter that served Butterbeer on its own summoned the memory of laughter and Hugo’s first foray into drinking the beverage, which he had spilt all over himself; and before she knew what was happening, Rose was having another panic attack.

She clutched at her chest, unable to breathe, unable to tear her gaze away from the table where she’ll one day share so many good moments with those she loved. She sobbed as she panted, and quickly got down on a chair under the quizzical stares of other patrons.

Newt, as expected, didn’t know what to do, and stayed there, perfectly still, eyes wide and hands trembling as if he was mentally going through all the things he could do to alleviate her pain.

“Miss? I’m sorry Miss, are you alright?” Rose became mildly aware that there was a young woman close to her, probably a waitress, and her presence alone managed to get her out of painful memories. She still clutched at her chest to manage to breathe, but her sobs quieted down, until she could look back to the young blonde who was staring at her worriedly.

“I’m…fine, thank you,” she croaked. “I supposed I could do with a glass of water, please.”

The girl nodded and scurried off, and Rose’s breathing settled down as she glanced up to see Newt rooted on the spot, looking far more distressed than she’d have thought possible in a situation like this.

“Newt?” He didn’t answer, and she got back up, getting close enough for him to be forced to look at her. When he did, she continued. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d panic like this.”

He shook his head, and it was as if someone had lifted a Petrifying Curse off of him. “Don’t…don’t apologize. I-I-I didn’t know-”

“Newt,” Rose interrupted, “Queenie is the only person so far who’s seen me having panic attacks. Felt it, too,” she added, guiltily. “Just hold my hand if it happens. It’ll be enough until I calm down.”

He seemed to think for a long moment, so long, in fact, that the girl had time to come back with a glass of water that Rose downed in one go. “Is it going to happen in Hogwarts too?”

Rose’s eyes snapped to his. Sometimes, well, often, if she was being honest with herself, Newt was far too intelligent for this world. She nodded slowly. “Probably. I’m around familiar places,” she added as an explanation, “it triggers memories.”

He nodded back. “I’ll go first and hold your hand,” he announced, as if it was the most logical thing in the universe. It made her smile.

“Let’s go, brother,” she concluded, putting into that word all the affection she was starting to feel for this awkward wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for the kudos I saw here and there during this mini-hiatus. Being confined with my parents proves hard on the muse, I hardly have time to put anything down on paper, and I'm sorry for that. I've found a compromise: isolating myself in my room like a teenager. XD  
> Anyway, I've finally settled on a plan of action for this story, which means I know it'll be around 35 chapters. I will slow down with the updates from now on: one chapter at a time, instead of two, which leaves me more time to write what I want without rushing. ;)  
> The exception being today, as you can see, I've posted two chapters. :P


	18. In which Hogwarts looks exactly the same

True to his word, Newt stepped in the fireplace first, announced a bright and clear “The Three Broomsticks!” before he disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

Rose followed him, stomach filled with nervous butterflies as she mirrored his words and let herself be engulfed in the familiar sensation of Flooing. Chimneys flew past her at great speed, not that different from those she knew in her time, until one very rustic one got closer and more defined, and she landed in the most famous pub in all Wizarding England’s History.

True to his word here also, Newt was waiting for her, blocking her view of the place and outstretching a hand for her to grasp. After dusting herself off residual ashes, Rose took his offered hand, and stepped out into the buzzing pub.

It should have been a Hogsmeade day for students, because the Three Broomsticks were filled to the brim with boys and girls clad in black robes accented in green, red, blue and yellow. The first thing that came to Rose’s mind was that the uniform hadn’t changed in one century. The second thing that came to mind was that she was home.

Newt’s hand in hers rooted her to the fact that she wasn’t in 2026, however. It wasn’t Madam Rosmerta behind the counter, either, but a stern-looking man with an impressive moustache and a golden waistcoat. “Bound for Hogwarts?” he asked in a booming voice.

Newt nodded shyly. “Yes, sorry.” The bartender sighed, obviously annoyed that they wouldn’t at least stop for a drink, but Rose was so overwhelmed with smells and noise that were all too familiar, that she let her fake brother pull her towards the front door without so much as a ‘Good morning’. What she did notice, however, were a few curious glances sent their way.

* * *

Winter that year had been kind, so far, or at least it had been in the South. Here, in Scotland, a thick sheen of snow covered the icy ground and a chill in the air made Rose shiver.

Newt wordlessly waved his wand and muttered a spell that warmed them both from head to toe.

Many a head turned as they quietly made their way through the village, and many a person, student or adult, whispered in their wake, wondering whether or not they were seeing the famous Newt Scamander.

Rose was too busy reminiscing to really take heed of this. Hogsmeade hadn’t changed at all since the Middle-Ages, anyone crazy enough to have read ‘Hogwarts: A History’ knew that; the only differences she could see so far were the shops. Honeydukes, Zonko’s and Madam Pudifoot’s Tea Shop didn’t exist yet, and in their stead were a Potions Master’s office – the equivalent of an apothecary, she supposed – a bookshop and a pet store.

The latter made her pause, and she noticed Newt’s set jaw as he stopped too. She understood why: in the shop’s window had been put on display the cadavers of three creatures deemed dangerous but that both wizard and witch knew to be harmless: a Demiguise; a Graphorn and a Firecrab.

Rose grabbed Newt’s hand to pull him forward, bile and anger rising in her throat. “I can’t wait for you book to be published. Then these idiots will understand just how _stupid_ they’ve all been.”

He didn’t answer, which said a lot about his distress.

* * *

The closer they got to the castle, the more Rose found herself shaking with nerves. She’d been walking among familiar settings all day, and the greatest panic attack she’d suffered had been at the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t Hogwarts itself that made her nervous, though, but rather the man she was doing to meet there.

Newt didn’t let go of her hand when they reached the massive gate, left open for students to come and go as they pleased.

A man stood there, short and stout with a pipe, a hat and a pocket-watch he kept glancing at. Somehow, Rose thought of a Hobbit when looking at him.

“Mister Scamander,” he drawled without glancing up, “long time no see…”

“Hello, Mister Reuel,” the wizard answered in a small voice, as if impressed by this…gate-keeper? “We’re meeting with Professor Dumbledore, my sister and I…”

At that the man looked up and turned dark eyes to Rose, assessing her, then frowning.

He remained silent for a while, then took his wand from a hip-holster and summoned a bright, Irish hound-shaped Patronus. The dog barked and disappeared up the path. “Professor Dumbledore has been notified of your arrival. On your way, Scamanders.”

Newt resumed walking. “Good day to you, Mister Reuel.”

Rose couldn’t help but glance back at the strange grumpy man before enquiring. “Is he a teacher?”

“Mister Reuel is the concierge,” Newt answered. “Never thought I’d see him again,” he added thoughtfully.

The young witch at his side pondered, then realised she’d just met Mister’s Filch predecessor…

* * *

There were so many things at Hogwarts that were the exact same. The same huge hourglasses in the entrance hall – Hufflepuff was winning by a large amount, something Rose had never see happen before; the same portraits littering the walls; the same ghosts, even, when the Bloody Baron came gliding past; the same moving stairs.

Rose kept glancing left and right. She’d come back to the school for Hugo and Lily’s graduation, two years prior, and yet, it was like she hadn’t seen the castle in decades…

There again, they crossed path with students of varying ages, all who’d mutter in their wake, pointing at them and at their joined hands.

* * *

“Rose! Newton! There you are!” came the call as they climbed the stairs leading to the third floor and Classroom 3C. At the top stood a tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed man who wore tweed as if it was the most casual thing in the world. His hands in his pockets, he was smiling warmly, a glint of something in his eyes when he looked at the red-haired witch.

This, paired with that velvety voice, told Rose everything she needed to guess who this was. Which is why she answered with a shaky “Professor Dumbledore” that made him smile.

Newt didn’t let go of her hand but reached out with his free one to shake Dumbledore’s, which surprised her. “Professor,” he repeated.

The teacher – who would later become legend – smile brighter even, and gestured them to follow him down the corridor, before announcing a jolly “I told you to call me Albus, Newt!” that made Rose’s insides twitch painfully. She squeezed Newt’s hand tighter, but he didn’t glance her way.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom hadn’t changed either from the time when Professor Stonehelm had taught Rose. The same skeleton hung from the ceiling along with that heavy chandelier, and the same staircase led to the teacher’s office.

She had never stepped inside, unlike James and Fred, who’d often been sent there for detention to clean various creatures’ habitats. For Dumbledore, it was decorated with a large bookshelf filled to the brim with heavy and dusty volumes; a shelf on which sat Sneakoscopes and mysterious orbs; and a large desk on which currently resided a teapot, several cups, and a plate of biscuits.

“Sit down, please,” he said in that lilting Irish accent, waving his wand to light a fire on which he placed a kettle. Newt led Rose to one of the three plush velvety blue armchairs, and let go of her hand. She felt its loss, but understood that it wouldn’t have been convenient to keep clutching at him in such a setting. They weren’t married, after all.

Another wave of his wand, this time towards the door, and Dumbledore turned back to them to fill the teapot and take a seat as well, the same smile on his lips.

* * *

After a moment of silence and contemplation, the professor started again, blue eyes of piercing intensity settling on Rose once more. “I must say I am very glad to finally meet you, Miss Rose. My imagination did not do you justice.”

The compliment made her blush, although she didn’t know why. She chose an appropriate answer that verged away from the topic of her looks. “I must thank you, Professor, for your help. If you hadn’t been here, if you hadn’t been quick to forge me a backstory, I’d probably be in MACUSA’s cells right now.”

His eyes burned with mischief. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Still, thank you. That was very clever.”

“I’ve been told I’m very clever, yes.” He smiled in a cocky way, and Rose remembered something she had forgotten, but that Professor Flitwick was keen to remind everybody in her time: Dumbledore had been a Ravenclaw. “Now, I know it’s forbidden, and all that, but may I know your name? The real one?”

Rose startled again, her eyes going to Newt, who was looking like half of his mind was already somewhere else. “I…I don’t-”

“I trust Newt to keep your secret. He had, so far, hasn’t he? And I’m curious by nature. Also, there is the possibility that members of your family are living nearby, which we should verge away from, don’t you think?” Again that glint of mischief, and Rose swallowed.

“I…suppose it’s a sound idea.” She took a deep breath, squeezing her hands in her lap and her name out of her lips in the same heartbeat. “My name is Rose Granger-Weasley.”

Newt didn’t move, just acknowledged it with a glance; but Professor Dumbledore’s smile widened. “Ah, of course. I should have guessed: not many of my students bear that distinctive hair colour, aside from the Scamanders, of course,” he added with a wink in Newt’s direction. “I taught Septimus Weasley two years ago. Do you know him?”

She nodded. “He was my great-grandfather.”

“Interesting,” was the only word he uttered before turning to his teapot and pouring tea for three. In silence, he handed them theirs and sipped on his own, eyes glazing as if he was deep in thought. Rose realised that this man’s brain must have worked at a thousand miles an hour.

* * *

“Professor,” she broke the silence a moment later, as Newt nibbled absent-mindedly on a biscuit, “have you found a way for me to go home?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes were truly unsettlingly piercing, Rose found. She wondered for a second if her parents and Uncle Harry had felt so little while under such scrutiny, before he smiled sadly and answered.

“I am trying to find a way. Alas, I need more information to help with my research. Can you explain in more details the manner in which you were sent back?”

Rose gritted her teeth. She’d thought, or at least she’d hoped, that coming here she’d hear that there was a way for her to go back, and that she only needed to wait for a few days. Instead, she found herself forced to think and to relive the most traumatic day of her existence.

“I was sent here via Time-Turner. It was one of those models that goes further back in time but that doesn’t work on space.” Dumbledore gestured for her to carry on. “I….lost it.”

Newt, at that, turned to look at her. “Did you?” He was surprised, and for good reason: she hadn’t told him.

She nodded, eyes cast down in shame. “In New-York…as Tina and I were trying to reach you, I fought Graves. I mean, Grindelwald. And one of his shields blasted me back. I think I lost it there. And I think it must have broken anyway.”

Dumbledore’s lips had pursed, and a surprisingly severe look had crossed his face. “You fought Grindelwald?”

“He was threatening Tina Goldstein, and I……I knew he wouldn’t harm me?”

“Wouldn’t he?” Calculating gaze, this time. “And why not?”

“He… Grindelwald showed some interest in me when he found me in Newt’s case. He knew right away I wasn’t who I claimed to be. He said he’d see me again, that I was interesting to him.”

“Gellert Grindelwald is a manipulative, silver-tongued man, for sure,” Dumbledore said in a bitter tone, “but he also is very clever. He might have guessed something about you. You say you lost the Time-Turner on the street. Were you wearing it around your neck?”

She shook her head. “In a pocket. Just in case…” she sighed, “in case it’d activate again and bring me back.”

“I’m afraid Time-Turners don’t work that way,” the blue-eyed wizard answered in a sad tone before smiling kindly again, all thoughts of Grindelwald forgotten. “Please, Miss Rose, drink some tea. It’s chamomile,” he added as an explanation.

“I gave her chamomile tea when we met,” provided Newt, although the information was not important.

Dumbledore found it was, though. “Very good thinking on your part, Newton, as always. How fares your brother?”

“Theseus is getting married” was the curt answer.

His former teacher’s smile faltered a bit. “Ah, yes. I must send him my congratulations.” Then, he turned back to Rose who, under such a piercing gaze, couldn’t help but sipping on her tea as asked.

* * *

When he was satisfied she had ingested enough of the brew to calm her nerves – although she didn’t feel any calmer – Dumbledore sighed once more, and placed his joined hands on his desk, staring at her with a suddenly sad look in his blue eyes.

“Miss Rose, now that I know more about the manner of your time-travel, I must bring you bad news.” He took a deep breath. “I promise you, before saying anything more, that I will do everything in my power to find a way to send you back home. I have some contacts in the Ministry who will help me, and I will not stop until I reach a final conclusion. However,” and his voice dropped, a sadder even look crossing his gaze, “I’m afraid I don’t see any solution to your problem. Without the Time-Turner that sent you here, there isn’t a lot we can do to reverse its effects. I would love to tell you that you’ll see your family again before Christmas, but…I’m very sorry to have to tell you that I think you will never go back to 2026…”

It was smoothly done. Like a teacher delivering bad grades, he had assured her that he would try, that he would look, that he wasn’t giving up. But then, he had given her a blow. A blow to her heart.

Rose’s heartbeat quickened, pounded loud enough for all the room to hear. She dropped her teacup onto the desk where it rattled and threatened to fall, and she clutched at her chest again.

He’d said she wouldn’t go back. That she wouldn’t see her family again.

She pictured the Boggart that had attacked her. The gaunt, haunted, desiccating faces of her parents and Hugo, telling her she’d killed them, betrayed them…

“I…I can’t-breathe,” she croaked, getting up and clutching harder at her chest.

Faintly, she felt Newt grab one of her hands, as she had told him to do when she was having a panic attack.

Since time, however, it couldn’t help.

“I can’t-breathe,” she repeated. Black spots obscured her sight, and before she could stop it, Rose fainted.


	19. In which Rose is stuck

When she came to, Rose noticed two things: she was most definitely on a bed; and someone was holding her hand. It was easy to guess who.

The familiar walls and beds of Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing greeted her when she opened her eyes, and suddenly, all came rushing back. Professor Dumbledore. His claim that she would almost certainly be stuck in the past forever.

Heart breaking all over again, she pictured her family’s faces: Hugo’s smile and freckles; Dad’s horrid jumpers and contagious laughter; Mum’s soft gaze and embrace. She’d lost them all forever. Now it was official. A new found wave of rage for Tina Scamander ran through her even as fresh tears fell from her eyes. If she could just get her hands on that infuriating old crone…

“Should I keep holding your hand?” asked a clear, worried voice from beside her.

Rose shoved her heartbreak back inside and turned to Newt, who was staring at her for one of those rare moments he agreed to look her in the eye.

“Yes, please,” she answered, realising as she said those words that his presence really did help, that he somehow grounded her.

He nodded and reaffirmed is grip.

* * *

“Miss Rose!” The Irish lilt and its smooth owner strode close to her ‘sickbed’, and the witch noticed a woman in garb fairly reminiscent of Madam Pomfrey’s hovering nearby.

Dumbledore stopped a few feet away, smile contrite and hands buried deep in his pockets.

“I’m sorry that our conversation brought you such anguish. I’d expected it – after all, it was quite distressful news – but I can’t say I was happy to see you in such a state…”

Rose squeezed Newt’s hand harder. Bizarrely enough, her anger had shifted from elderly Tina to young Albus Dumbledore.

And her anger must have shown, for he immediately took his hands from his pockets and approached, smile gone from his face. “I promise you,” he started, apologetic, now, “that I will do everything I possibly can to find a way for you to get home. I won’t _stop_ ,” he emphasised, “until I have found it.”

Perhaps it was the fact that he wasn’t smiling, or the convincing passionate tone, but Rose believed him. She had a feeling that this man was more complex than she’d ever imagined, but if her parents had trusted him, then she thought she had to as well.

Instead of answering, though, she turned to Newt, who was glancing at the ceiling. When he looked back at her, Rose asked “Can you take me home, please?”

He nodded wordlessly, helped her up, and only spoke once they were at the door. “Thank you for the tea, Professor.”

Rose, despite everything, had to smile at that…

* * *

No one stopped them as they made their way back outside, but this time, Rose noticed the couple subtle changes in the school, aside from the staff, of course.

First, she realised the Whomping Willow was missing. Unsurprising, though, for someone who had grown up close to one Teddy Lupin who was _very_ keen on reminding everyone that the tree had been planted for his father’s First Year at Hogwarts.

Then, there also was the distinct lack of Hagrid’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Rose knew that there’d been a ground keeper at Hogwarts before the kind half-giant, so he must have lived elsewhere.

“It’s easy to forget that I’m not at _my_ Hogwarts, then I have proof that it’s massively different from what I know,” she muttered.

Newt hummed. “The only thing that has changed since I was here is that the Kelpie doesn’t reside in the Black Lake anymore,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Rose gasped and playfully smacked his arm. “Newton Scamander, don’t tell me that you kidnapped that Kelpie from here!” She’d ‘met’ the creature in his basement, of course, but he’d never told her where it – he – had come from.

“I didn’t,” he answered. “Professor Dumbledore had him moved to a location where it was easier for me to pick him up.” As an afterthought, he added, “There had been some issues with the merpeople.”

Rose nodded grimly, all too aware that the inhabitants of the Black Lake were not kind to everyone…

* * *

Mister Reuel was ushering the last of the students towards the castle after their day in the village. He wished them safe travels after staring intently at Rose, and closed the gate behind them.

The impressive rattling of steel, gears and hinges made her jump in fright. The creepy feeling intensified as she and Newt walked back to the Three Broomsticks in the fading winter light.

“Butterbeer?” the wizard asked before they reached the pub. “Before we go home?”

Rose stared at him and considered his offer before nodding. “Firewhiskey.”

He chuckled, and opened the door before letting her pass.

The pub was much calmer than it had been earlier that day, emptied of all the students who had rushed in to taste the famed Butterbeer. There still were about ten clients, scattered around the room, talking in jolly tones and laughing loud.

This time, they sat at a table, relatively away from prying ears. The barman looked pleased that they’d grace him with stopping for a drink before using his Floo again, which Rose empathised with greatly. She’d have been annoyed too if someone used her fireplace without so much as a ‘Hello, thank you’.

“What can I get you two?” he asked while cleaning a tumbler.

“One Firewhiskey and one Butterbeer, please,” Newt asked while staring at the wall. The barman didn’t seem offended, and went back to his station to prepare the drinks.

“Thank you,” said Rose after a moment. Her fake brother raised his gaze to hers before lowering it again, prompting her to continue her trail of thoughts. “You’ve helped me a lot today. Come to think of it, I owe you for everything you’ve done since we met.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t _not_ help you.”

She smiled softly, staring at him with fond eyes. “Spoken like a true Hufflepuff.”

He looked at her again, this time holding her gaze longer. “Wouldn’t you have done the same for me?”

She gritted her teeth. “I would have, of course I would have. But…I’d probably have hesitated a great deal before helping a total stranger spinning impossible tales of time travel.”

He smiled, and directed his gaze back to the table. “Spoken like a true Gryffindor.”

The barman chose that moment to come back with their drinks, and put the Butterbeer in front of Rose, and the Firewhiskey in front of Newt. Who shook his head.

“No, the Firewhiskey is for my sister, here,” he said, taking the beer and pushing the tumbler towards her.

The barman’s eyes widened, and he looked at Rose. “I’d never thought a young lady such as yourself would drink such a thing!”

She had half a mind to explain that women did drink stronger drinks and handled it, but she was tired, and only answered with “I had a harsh day,” to which he shrugged and moved back to the bar.

Newt gently clinked his glass to hers, and took a sip of his drink without a word more.

Rose, after taking a gulp of burning liquor, pondered at his previous words. “It’s so easy for you,” she started, prompting a curious glance from the magizoologist, “to call me ‘sister’. Why is it so easy to you?”

He took another sip before tilting his head to the side. “I don’t know. I think it’s easy because I like having you around. You’re a good sister.”

He said that as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if it didn’t mean a thousand things and more, as if it didn’t make her heart swell in pride and break into tiny pieces at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured a moment later, reaching for his hand, which he gave her without question – something that would have been impossible a few weeks before. “I’m sorry that you are stuck with me, perhaps forever.”

Newt snorted, the noise so incongruous, so surprising, that her eyes widened at the sound of it. “Rose, I like you living with me. You help me with my creatures, you are nice, you don’t yell at me like Theseus does, and I would miss you too much if you left. I’m happy you are staying.”

And those words made her weep, clutching his hand like a drowning woman, in a familiar pub in an unfamiliar year…


	20. In which Rose meets two very different women

After their encounter with Dumbledore and Newt’s subsequent admission that he already considered Rose to be part of his family, the red-haired witch settled more frankly in her 1920s life.

She still had nightmares, more violent than they used to be, and in the absence of Queenie’s gentle cooing, Rose was left to cry herself back to sleep or, more often than not, to go down to the basement to seek Dougal’s company.

Newt had polished his book but had vehemently refused her to have a sneak-peek, saying that she already knew what it talked about anyway. She’d tried to counter by explaining that she’d never read the _first edition_ , but he hadn’t changed his mind, and sent his manuscript to the editor right away.

Theseus came by regularly, reminding Rose that she’d promised to meet Leta but hadn’t done anything to effectively meet her yet. Rose had then asked why Leta didn’t come with him on one of his visits, resulting in his early leaving. She’d been puzzled, to say the least.

All in all, as long as she kept to Newt’s house – their house? – everything was peachy.

But of course, she couldn’t possibly stay cooped up in there forever…

* * *

“Rose? Where is my scarf?”

Newt was running from one end of the house to the other like an excited puppy. Rose, said scarf in hand, was shaking her head upon witnessing such behaviour.

February had given into March, winter had given into spring. Newt’s book had been published and, as Rose had expected, it was success. So that day, they were bound for Flourish and Blott’s for his first book-signing.

“Newt,” she laughed, “I’ve been holding it for the past five minutes.”

He stopped and blushed as she handed him the yellow and grey scarf. “Sorry.”

Rose smiled and placed a light grey hat on her head. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Newt.”

He didn’t answer, but nodded before grabbing her hand and walking out the door.

* * *

London-city was buzzing as usual when they Apparated in a side-street to the Leaky Cauldron. Passers-by enjoyed the rays of sunlight that peeked through thin clouds, and conversations were as enthusiastic as a morning of spring.

Rose felt the same pang in her chest when stepping inside the crooked pub, but unlike the last time, she reigned in the heartbreak that came with familiar bearings, and kept her gloved hand safely tucked in Newt’s. He tugged her towards the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley without a word, swallowed up by his own nerves.

The wizarding world’s most famous shopping street was filled to the brim with shoppers. A good amount of witches were gathered in front of Madam Malkin’s, surely to appreciate some new frock in the shop’s window; a couple of young wizards were pointing animatedly at the Quidditch supplies’ window; and a queue of a rather large amount of people had formed in front of Flourish and Blott’s.

Newt’s hand started trembling in Rose’s, and she stopped him, forcing him to look at her before she smiled in reassurance. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. I’m there.”

He nodded absent-mindedly, eyed the queue once more – and they’d been noticed, now, for a few witches had started whispering and pointing at them – and shook his head. “I don’t like being around many people.”

“Neither do I,” she answered, and it was the truth. “But you’ll be behind a desk, signing books, and you can escape whenever you need a break. They can’t do anything about it.” She smirked, this time. “I can even make a diversion, if you need me to.”

His green eyes rose to meet her blue, and he smiled more frankly. “That’d be nice.” And he tugged her forward again.

* * *

The bookshop’s owner – a portly gentleman with a bowler hat one size too small – met them in front of the shop, amidst mutters and pointing fingers. “Mister Scamander! Thank you for coming! It’s an…honour, yes, an honour!”

Rose forced herself not to snort. It visibly _wasn’t_ an honour. Newt had been mocked all his life; the success of his book didn’t change the looks of contempt on some people’s faces. Including this man.

Newt nodded, and tugged at her hand again. “Thank you. This is my sister, Rose. She’s here to help me.”

“Oh, of course!” the wizard’s beady eyes suddenly lit up, as if he was offered a very precious edition. “We’ve heard so much about you, Miss Rose! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

He made a gesture as if wanting to grab her hand for a kiss, but Newt entered the shop and pulled her with him, which made her chuckle in relief.

Her first ‘true’ outing. She hadn’t expected to be such a point of focus, though…

A hundred or so of Newt’s book – Rose was delighted to discover its first cover, simple, dark blue with elegant and curved golden lettering – was placed around a large desk behind which sat two chairs. No doubt that the shop’s owner had intended for the second chair to be his, but Rose commandeered it, ignoring the lingering stares of the shop’s clients.

She sat, adjusted her dress, took off her hat and matching gloves, and put a pile of five books in front of her, nodding at Newt who sat down as well, eyes cast down onto the desk. He grabbed a quill, his hand trembling still.

She leaned closer. “I’ll ask for their names, you sign, say ‘Hi’ or ‘Thank you’, and that’s it. Alright?”

His gaze met hers, and he nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, brother mine,” she winked, heart swelling as she said those words. This awkward wizard was truly hard not to love. If she could bring him back with her to the 2020s, she’d be the happiest person on Earth… Alas…

The first witch in the queue cleared her throat, bringing her back to the present. Plastering an amenable smile on her lips, Rose greeted her. “Hi! Thank you for coming! What’s the name you’d like the book to be signed for?”

And thus began a very long morning, and an equally long afternoon, repeating the same words over and over again.

* * *

At one point, around 3pm, a man with a notebook and a quill approached the desk, forgoing all queuing to stand right in front of Rose, upsetting the mother of three he had pushed out of the way.

“Miss Rose Scamander, for your first real appearance in the wizarding world, have you got anything to say?”

Newt’s eyes rose from the book he’d been signing, and a frown appeared on his features. Rose had rarely seen him this upset, perhaps even angry. She placed a soothing hand on his arm and hissed “Which paper are you working for?”

The man smiled. “ _Daily Prophet._ The best there is.”

She smiled darkly, this time, and waved the shop’s owner closer. “Sir, will you please escort this journalist outside? He hasn’t obeyed the rules of queuing, and hasn’t purchased my brother’s book. Until he does both, I’d like him out of my sight, thank you.”

The journalist made an affronted face, but before he could retort, the portly owner had steered him back to the entrance.

Newt visibly relaxed, and the witch whose children had been clutching their copies to their chests like excited kittens huffed in appreciation. “Well, welcome, Miss Scamander! Your spirit is greatly appreciated!”

Rose smiled to the woman, who seemed kinder and less…prompt to mutters than most of the earlier patrons. “He was quite rude to you and your children. That never sits well with me.”

The witch smiled back. “Thank you. Come on, little devils, what do we say to the kind madam?”

The three kids – none of which appeared old enough to attend Hogwarts yet – parroted ‘Thank you!’ before the family left.

Newt tapped her arm gently, and Rose looked at him with a quizzical glance. “You’ve won them over.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be sentimental. Four in a million isn’t enough.”

“Careful, it sounds like you are planning world domination.”

Rose’s laughter made several in attendance stare at her in wonder. But she didn’t care what they thought of her in that moment: Newt had made a funny joke.

* * *

The queue stopped at about 5pm with a couple of youngsters who were certainly more interested in seeing what the fuss was about than the book itself; and a young blonde witch who stood in front of Newt with stars in her eyes and a love-struck smile on her face.

She called a bright ‘My name’s Bunty!’ to Rose when she’d enquired about her name, then proceeded to tell a baffled Newt all about why she found him extraordinary. The magizoologist looked lost for a long moment, then blinked and started asking questions to the young witch, about why she liked his book and work. Bunty answered in a voice shaking with excitement that Care for Magical Creatures had always been her favourite subject at school, and that she’d always wanted to know more about the magical creatures of the world.

When she claimed to have read his book eleven times since it got out and took it upon herself to quote several lines of it – even going as far as to quote the exact page – Rose stood from her chair, startling her ‘brother’ and his fan.

“I’m going to stretch my legs upstairs. If you need me.” With a smile, she added, “Nice meeting you, Bunty. Do not refrain from pleasing my brother’s ego. He needs it.” And with that, she climbed the dozen stairs leading to the rest of the bookshop, where she knew she’d find the Healing section.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Newt and Rose finally stepped back into their home, tired beyond belief, but also quite pleased with themselves.

Newt and Bunty had talked quite a lot, both equally awkward, although the young witch was more extraverted than him. They’d talked about creatures, about his research, about the baby Nifflers…and it all ended with a job offer.

“I still don’t understand why you’d need an assistant,” Rose said as she put plates on the dinner table. They’d summoned some food from a local restaurant in a surprisingly familiar way, although they didn’t call it ‘take-away’ yet.

The red-haired wizard sighed as he sat down. “I need the help. Anything can happen when I’m not there, and I wouldn’t be here to fix it.” Then, he sighed some more, crossed his arms, and stared at the ceiling pointedly. “And I don’t want you to help me anymore.”

Rose paused, a fork in mid-air, her wand frozen in her hand. “ _What?_ ” It didn’t make sense at all, with everything he’d told her time and time again, about how he was glad she was there to help, etc. etc.

“I mean,” he backtracked with a grimace, “I don’t want you to help me and not be paid for it anymore.” He cleared his throat. “I….I want to…I want to write another book.”

Rose’s eyes widened, and she sat too, puzzled. “What does that have to do with me helping?”

“I….I want to write about the healing properties of some creatures’ fluids, venom and so on…” He paused, a thoughtful smile appearing on his lips. “Like the Swooping Evil’s venom.”

Rose was reminded of New-York for a moment, and took her time missing Queenie and Jacob – and Tina, alright – before she carried on. “And?”

Newt met her gaze for a second before returning his to the ceiling. “I’d like you to help me write it. You’re a Healer, and you know my creatures and…….future…remedies.”

Silence. Rose felt all blood drain from her face, then return to her cheeks, making her blush and feel faint at the same time. “You want to write a book with me?”

“Yes.” This time he looked her in the eye, and held her gaze. “You don’t like the idea?”

She huffed, clutching at her chest, although she wasn’t having a panic attack this time. “It’s…I’m…flattered. I’m honoured, even. But…are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. It means I’ll have to send time in a tiny room with you for long hours…” he made a show of shivering, which made her laugh. “Do you agree to it, then?”

She shook her head even as she answered. “Of course I’ll write a book with you. You dummy.”

Newt’s answering smile could have powered up a nuclear plant…

* * *

Exactly three days later, a very excited Bunty knocked on their door, more than ready to start her first day as Newt’s assistant. She had kind words for Rose, but her gaze remained firmly attached to the magizoologist who was already babbling about all the things he had to show her and that she had to put down on paper not to forget.

Someone had a crush on her ‘brother’. It was cute. And sickening.

“Newt, I’m going to the bookshop!” she called as he and his assistant disappeared beyond the door leading to the basement. He didn’t answer, obviously, but she knew he’d heard her. Shaking her head, she grabbed her grey hat and chuckled as she stole his scarf – she loved that thing, and didn’t even know why – and wrapped it around her neck.

It was the first time that she was out and about alone since she’d come ‘back’ to England. It was frightening, and every person that she crossed path with on her way to the Disapparating point looked suspicious in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.

Palms sweaty and eyes burning from looking around her so often, Rose Apparated away to the Leaky Cauldron, sighing in relief when she found herself tucked away in the pub, and in relative safety. People still stared at her, some with indifference, others with curiosity, and others still with a greedy look on their faces. When she escaped to the backyard, she heard the starting ushered conversations, and sighed. Dear Lord, could people of any time period stop talking about people behind their backs?

Flourish and Blott’s was quiet that day. It was a week day, it wasn’t the holidays, and most of Diagon Alley was calmer than she’d ever known it to be. She greeted the shopkeeper – not the owner, she noticed – and asked where she could find books on the healing properties of plants and creatures. She was directed to a secluded area of the first floor, and buried herself under several volumes.

After about an hour of perusing, she hadn’t found many interesting books: a couple on plants and their healing abilities – although it was slightly dated, she’d have to crosscheck with what she knew from her time – and only one on creatures. Then again, it was dusty, old, hand-written and probably the work of an obscure and limited wizard sometime during the Middle-Ages. She discarded it, sighed, and picked up the two Herbology books.

That’s when she noticed someone watching her from the stairs’ landing. They’d probably been there for a while, leaning against the railing, face hidden in shadows.

It was a woman, petite with dark hair, and as she approached, Rose felt something like recognition course through her. She’d seen those features before, she was sure of it, but she didn’t remember where.

The woman’s dark eyes were framed with disciplined curls. She wore a velvety crimson hat and a matching dress that highlighted her slender waist and curves. Her lips were painted blood-red, and she was smiling. “Hello,” she said, calm, collected, everything Rose wasn’t.

Then, she remembered. Newt’s study. His bookshelf. The photograph there, next to his family’s.

“Oh, you’re Leta!” she exclaimed, a bit ashamed after the fact. “Sorry, that was rude. Hi. I’m Rose.”

“I know. I saw you come in here a while ago and thought I’d come and say ‘Hi’.”

Rose frowned. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

Leta shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’m waiting for Scamanders to be finished with whatever they’re doing before they notice me standing there. You get used to it. And it’s rather entertaining.” She came closer, another kind of mischievous smile on her lips, this time. “Care for a drink? Between future sisters-in-law?”

Rose was certain she looked like a fish out of its tank, opening and closing her mouth before she managed to nod. “Let me pay for my books and I’ll be right there.”

“Good.” Leta gracefully got down the stairs, earning herself some frankly odd glances from the other patrons, and Rose followed, still half-dazed.

Well well… Leta Lestrange. Here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! Hoping everyone's alright and still enjoying this silly story. ;) Just so you know, I realise I'd initially planned for the 'hiatus' between the two movies to be filled in ten chapters top, and we are largely going over the limit. XD Crimes of Grindelwald are scheduled to start in four chapters. So don't fret. Rose and Theseus just need a bit more time to get to know each other, and I can't stop writing her and Newt being stupidly soft. :D


	21. In which Rose and Leta have tea

Leta Lestrange patiently waited for Rose to pay for her books before she familiarly linked their arms together and started walking through Diagon Alley. Rose was tense, not really knowing what she should do, but while she let herself be steered, she observed her future ‘sister-in-law’.

Leta was smaller than her, which wasn’t such a surprise, since Rose had inherited the Weasley gene; she held herself with grace, chin held high and jaw set in the posh look that the red-head thought inherent to Slytherins; and also, she seemed sad.

Despite the ring on her finger and what Rose knew of her – not much, granted, but she was, after all, engaged to Theseus in what she’d been told was a love-match – there was an air of tristesse around the petite witch. One that puzzled her new companion.

They stopped in front of a teashop that stood in place of Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour. Leta opened the door for Rose, smiled at the owner, and led her to a table near the back. The velvet-clad woman sat facing the door, leaving Rose to sit in front of her, her back to the rest of the customers.

She didn’t like it.

Which Leta clocked immediately, apparently. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. “Uncomfortable?”

Rose shook her head. “I don’t necessarily like having people at my back.”

Leta nodded. “Me neither.” And, apparently, her own comfort was more important to her than Rose’s, since she didn’t offer to switch places. Typical Slytherin. She grabbed her tiny purse and placed it on her knees, keeping her hand there. A jovial smile placed itself on her lips, but the Gryffindor facing her knew it was in parts fake. “I am glad we could finally meet.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t come to Newt’s place,” countered Rose after they’d ordered two Earl Greys and a plate of lemon cakes.

Leta’s dark eyes darkened, if it was even possible. “Hasn’t Theseus told you?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “Newt and I… We were friends. At school.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “ _Were_?”

The Slytherin fidgeted, visibly unsure, then she plastered the same fake smile on her lips. “We’ll talk about that later. First, we need to get to know each other.” The red-haired woman didn’t get how this particular topic wasn’t, so to speak, getting to know Leta, but she let it slide. “I hear that you are a Healer.”

Rose nodded. “I am. Which is handy when living with a hundred or so creatures in your basement.”

Leta’s smile turned more genuine. “Yes. Newt and his friends. I suppose it means that you are content with your housing?”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Many people have said in the past that Newt’s way of living is insufferable. Theseus included.”

“Theseus is too hard on Newt.”

Leta’s gaze turned calculating. “Is he now? Well, maybe he is. He wants his brother safe. Even from himself.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to worry, since I’m there.” The waiter chose that moment to bring their order, and for a moment, they sipped at their tea, observing each other in silence.

* * *

After a few minutes, Leta put her hands back in her lap, and continued with her enquiries. “Do you intend to stay long?”

Rose almost spat out her lemon cake. The question meant several things, or at least she thought it did. Hadn’t Theseus told Leta about her coming from the future? Did she think she was just being an opportunist in accepting Newt’s help?

Seeing as she was not answering, Leta smiled again. This time, however, it was more….let’s say, predatory than the previous ones. She leaned closer over the table. “I could warn you: if you harm either of them, or if you even think of doing it, I will make sure that you don’t remain alive for very long.” She twitched, as if wanting Rose to check her hands.

The red-head swallowed, unsure of what was happening, but when she peeked in-between the wall and their table, she saw that, in fact, Leta hadn’t been keeping her bag in her lap all this time. She’d been pointing her wand straight at her the whole exchange.

Somehow, it made her angry. “I’m not here to harm anyone, let alone my _brothers_ ,” she spat the word. “And before you try anything, _snake_ ,” reverting to her usual insults for people of the same House, “know that I’m far from being helpless with a wand.”

Leta chuckled, relaxing and sitting back, putting an emphasis on how she put her wand back into her sleeve while Rose still fumed. “Good. Then that’s settled.” She took another sip of her tea, before asking, “Would you want to go shopping with me sometime? I’m not certain that Newt has a lot of women’s clothes in his house…”

Her acolyte kept wide eyes on her for a moment longer, not understanding a lot about those shifts in mood. Then, she supposed Leta had tested her with that trick, and that, bizarrely enough, she had passed. It was difficult to go back to calm and collected, though. She hadn’t quite mastered that yet.

Rose gulped her tea in one go, and shrugged. “Maybe. Not today, though.”

Leta acquiesced. “No, not today. I dare say this encounter has been too interesting. We’ll need time to ponder.” She waved her hand, payed the shop-attendant, and rose from her chair “Rose, it’s been a pleasure to bump into you. Please, send me an owl whenever you’d like.” She smiled again, and gracefully strode away.

Rose watched her go, puzzled in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. She then noticed what had been hidden from her sight since they’d arrived: everyone in the tea-shop had been staring at them. Or, more specifically, at _Leta_. Not at her _. At Leta._ And as the gorgeous little witch exited the place, whispers started all around, with pointing fingers, snarls and looks of disdain.

What in _Merlin’s_ name?

* * *

When she got home, her books shrunk in her pocket, thoughts swirling in her mind, Rose’s first instinct was to seek Newt out.

She found him showing Bunty how to feed the Occamies without getting bitten. The girl seemed as smitten as she’d been hours prior, and it put a small smile on Rose’s face.

“Newt?” She waited until said wizard turned to her, giving her his full attention. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nodded, before turning to Bunty. “Keep feeding them. I’ll be back.” He shoved the bag of food into his new assistant’s hands, not noticing the wistful sigh of the girl before he walked to his sister. “Yes?”

She stared at him for a second, then blurted out “I’ve met Leta today.”

His green eyes rose so he could meet her gaze. A slight flush went to his cheeks, combined with a look of….sadness? “Did you?”

“Yes. She’s quite weird, isn’t she?”

“I haven’t seen her in a long time,” was his answer. He was about to flee, she could sense it, knew him well enough by then.

Which is why she stopped him by saying “She threatened me.” Newt’s eyes went back to hers. He was surprised. “She pointed her wand at me and told me she’d kill me if I hurt you or Theseus.”

A small nostalgic smile went to Newt’s lips. “Sounds like something she’d do.”

“She did that in a public place.” He didn’t get what had her so flustered, she could see. “Newt, she threatened to kill me _in a public place_. Back where I come from, only _certain people_ do that with the risk of hurting bystanders…” Death Eaters, she stopped herself from saying. He wouldn’t know what they were.

“Theseus threatened you too,” was his answer.

“And we were alone in a field.”

“Rose.” He met her gaze with a determined look, this time. “If you wish for me to say ‘what a horrible person’ or ‘I’ll write to her to ask she apologizes’, I won’t do either. Leta is…..an intense witch. And she’ll protect Theseus with all she has.”

“And you, apparently.”

He didn’t rise to the bait, and sighed. “I have to go back to work.”

The conversation was over.

But Rose wasn’t reassured. Leta Lestrange had threatened her in a place where collateral damage coming from a duel – or worse, a Killing Curse – would have been devastating; she’d claimed to want them to know each other better, but she hadn’t really shared anything or dug deeper into who Rose was; and then, there was that look on the other patrons’ faces when she’d gone.

Who was Leta Lestrange? Was she a threat to Newt?

The Gryffindor in her roared in her chest.

She got back upstairs as quickly as the many flights of stairs allowed her to, grabbed some paper and a quill, and started writing a letter to Queenie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Hope you liked Rose and Leta's meeting. I wanted Leta to be shown ultra-protective of her boys, and in a Slytherin, kind of scary way. Her relationship with Rose will be weird, but I want them to have this sort of common agenda: protecting the Scamanders no matter the cost. ;)


	22. In which Rose attends a ball

Sometime later, Rose found a very giddy Newton Scamander in her bedroom. He’d let himself in during one of those long hours where she studied the various books she’d acquired. He was carrying a letter that seemed familiar to the young witch, although she didn’t know why at first.

“Look what Professor Dippet sent me! So kind of him, since we’ve never met!”

Rose’s brow furrowed as she took the letter from him. She realised it’d looked familiar because it came from Hogwarts. The crest shone bright in the sunlight, and the writing of the address was the exact same as in her future, which meant it’d be magicked and not actually written down.

‘ _Dear Mr Scamander,_ ’ it read, ‘ _Congratulations on the publishing of your book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The school board has found it a compelling read and has universally decided that, as of September 1927, it will be part of the curriculum for First Years. Please note that, if you are ever available for lectures, we are also interested in hosting them. With regards, Professor Armando Dippet, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._’

Rose smiled throughout. She’d known, obviously, that Newt’s book was going to make a rather impressive entrance into the school’s curriculum as soon as it was published, but it was good to be witness to it, and to the joy and pride it brought to its author, who was so used to being mocked for what he did.

“It’s amazing, Newt! Congratulations!”

He smiled wider, a slight pink tinge going to his cheeks, but as he got hold of the letter back, he frowned. Rose could see the cogs turning, and then, he met her gaze, as if a lightbulb had lit up in his brain. “You knew.” He didn’t let her acquiesce, and carried on. “That’s how you knew so much about my creatures when we met.”

“I studied your book when I was at school, yes,” she nodded, a wide smile on her lips. “My brother Hugo has kept it by his bed since he was twelve. He’s nineteen now. Or…he’d be, nineteen.” Suddenly, the whole affair brought a gloomy atmosphere to the room, although it was a cause for celebration. Rose’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart beat faster, but Newt shoved it all away by swiftly grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

“Come on, let’s celebrate. I have cider in the cellar.”

She laughed. Cider. The wildest thing he could think of drinking. Bless the lad.

* * *

Bunty joined them for a drink, all the while repeating over and over again how ‘Mister Scamander’ was ever so deserving of the fame and awards he was going to receive for his books, as Rose absent-mindedly petted Dougal, who’d yet again perched on her shoulders, and as Newt steered the baby Nifflers away from his glass. It sparkled. They liked sparkly things. Cider included.

Rose had just gone back to her room to try and finish a very boring chapter on seaweed when a bird landed on her window-sill. She’d left the window ajar in the spring brisk air.

It wasn’t Queenie’s usual brown owl, but a majestic falcon, with its regal and calculating look. Rose would have thought it’d been a mistake, if there hadn’t been a letter attached to the bird’s leg. Gently, she reached for it, mindful of the sharps talons and beak of the creature. It tilted its head, but remained still enough.

Unsure what to give the bird in lieu of payment or thanks, Rose bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she told the falcon, “I’ve got nothing for you.” It seemed to have understood her and, with a rather angry call, it took flight again.”

The letter was written in a feminine and curly writing Rose had begun to get herself intimately acquainted with. While she and Leta hadn’t met again after that quite frankly disastrous first meeting, her future sister-in-law had soon after started a correspondence, at first apologizing for her handling of the situation, and asking more mundane questions. Sometimes, she managed to ask about Newt. Most of the times, she veered away from the topic, ignoring Rose’s prompting each time.

Sighing, the red-haired witch opened the envelope, curious to see what Leta was writing about then.

‘ _Dear Rose,_

_I believe we’ve agreed to a bit of shopping together, when we stumbled upon each other last time. What do you say to actually doing it? I’m in dire need of company, of female company, actually, and I do think we need to get better acquainted, for real this time._

_I promise I will be on my best behaviour._

_Please owl me back for a day and time. London is lovely at this time of year._

_Kind regards,_

_Leta_ ’

Rose sighed again, and squeezed her eyes shut. True, she’d promised Leta a day of shopping. The number of dresses she owned was of exactly three, and each Transfiguration made the fabric loose and frail. She needed new clothes. She also needed to spend time with someone else than Newt.

Despite their kind of rude first meeting, she knew that Leta wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t seem the type, unlike what her something-in-law Bellatrix. She’d apologized about her threatening Rose, and she was to marry Theseus, after all. There also was the slight curiosity in the Weasley witch that made her wonder exactly _who_ Leta Lestrange was, and why so many people seemed as entranced by her as they appeared repulsed.

She grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled her answer quickly. Lylah the Fwooper was home, she was going to take advantage of it.

* * *

They met at the Leaky Cauldron on a rainy April morning. Leta was clad in a black dress that hugged her every curve, and wore a glamourous hairdo that Rose was immediately jealous of. Her lips were tinted blood red, and all in all, she was as gorgeous as she’d been weeks prior.

“Rose!” she greeted with a wide smile. She came to meet her and, to Rose’s surprise, mimicked kissing her cheek in a familiar way. “I’m so sorry we picked a rainy day. It could have been such a joyful girls’ day out!”

Rose’s eyes widened at the enthusiasm of the other witch. She truly was strange. “We’ll spend more time inside, anyway.”

“True, true. Come on, now, let’s start with _Robes for All Occasions_.” She linked their arms as she’d done the first time around, ignored the frowns of the pub’s other clients when they passed them, and headed towards the backyard and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“Leta,” Rose started as soon as they had stepped into the quiet street. The drizzle had made other shoppers flee, and she wasn’t about to complain too much. “Why is everyone always looking at you funnily?”

Leta tensed, she sensed it, but she kept smiling. “That is a tale for another time. Now, more importantly,” she stared at the younger witch with a studying look on her face, “do you always wear green or are you open to suggestions?”

The change in subject had Rose chuckle in shock.

* * *

 _Robes for All Occasions_ was _Madam Malkin’s_ without Madam Malkin. Before the stout woman had purchased the shop, it obviously had been named differently, but the interior was the exact same and tugged at Rose’s heartstrings for a bit, before she concentrated on her companion for the day.

Leta was visibly trying to make her buy a dozen new dresses, which Rose couldn’t afford, since she had only a few money left of the salary she’d earned in MACUSA. She flatly refused to ask Newt for a loan, especially since he was already housing and feeding her for free.

“Leta,” she said at last, after the dark-haired witch had put aside a thirteenth gown, “I can’t possibly buy all of that.”

Leta turned to her, a perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. “Of course not. You’re going to try them all on, though.” After a pause, she added, “Have you never spend enough time in a clothes shop to try everything on?”

Rose shook her head. “Not really.”

“It’s the whole point of it!” Leta seemed shocked, grabbed a fourteenth dress, and pulled Rose towards the changing rooms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

In the end, it truly was fun enough to try all these new shiny things on, even if Rose did only buy three out of the fourteen.

Before she could move to the counter to pay, though, Leta waved another very different dress in front of her eyes. “Try this on, please.”

Rose eyed the garment. It was a beautiful evening dress, golden in colour, with a low waistline and billowing skirts, and a plunging back that stopped just shy of the backside. It was beautiful, but too formal. “Why would I-?”

“Because I’m inviting you to a Ministry party, and you need something to wear.” She’d said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, but, for the first time since they’d met, Leta actually let her mask slip. For a split second, she appeared unsure of herself, or of what Rose would say or agree to.

She grabbed the dress, and Leta’s arm. “Tell me all about it.” She closed the curtain of the changing rooms on them both, and stared at the petite witch until she spilled the beans.

“Fine,” Leta breathed, avoiding Rose’s eyes. “Theseus has been invited to some Ministry party. There’s one every week or so, he’s always invited, War Hero and all that, but this one he can’t say no to. I’m going as his plus one, but I’d like you to come as well.”

“Why? What is it about?”

“The French Minister for Magic is coming. He knows Theseus, they met during the War.” Rose’s eyes widened. It was easy to forget that her ‘elder brother’ had fought in the trenches like a Muggle… “Thing is, whenever he’s invited for this sort of thing, I barely see him at all. He’s always whisked away by some official or other, and I’m left alone. So…” She cut short, knowing Rose would follow.

She did, and furrowed her brow. “You want me to be there so you wouldn’t be alone.”

“And so the women would have someone else to gossip about than me.”

“Why is everyone always looking at you weirdly?” Rose sighed. “Please don’t elude me, this time.”

In the intimate space of the changing room, Leta couldn’t back away. Physically she could, of course, but somehow, she understood that, if she did, Rose wouldn’t trust her. “You are so pure, so nice. You’ve never once said anything about the tone of my skin.”

Rose’s blue eyes widened some more. “Your skin? What’s wrong with your skin?”

She’d understood before Leta answered, but the words were still completely stupid. “I’m half-Black. My mother was Senegalese.” There was a hint of something in her eyes that said of more but Rose didn’t want to pry too deep. She didn’t want to be too eager to decipher the ‘Leta riddle.’

Still, she rolled her eyes. “The idea of race is idiotic. You are either human or not, no matter the colour of your skin, the country you were born, or whether you have magic or not. If these people look at you funny because you are of mixed heritage, then they are just plainly stupid.”

Leta’s smile was genuine and beautiful. “Well, many do not have the same ideals as you, my dear Rose. So, about the party?”

The red-head smiled back, and made to take her current dress off to try the beautiful golden one on. “Alright, I’m coming. But you’ll owe me one.”

“How very unlike Gryffindors to keep tabs,” Leta joked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: People, I can officially tell you that Crimes of Grindelwald will start in two chapters' time. I think the void between the two movies will have been sufficiently filled by then. ;)  
> Also, I'm rather productive, and am writing one chapter a day. Fear no more: I won't be late for an update anymore. :P


	23. In which Rose is the centre of attention

The dreaded Ministry party took place on the 18th April, in a beautiful Georgian mansion somewhere outside of York. Rose examined the building with a deer-in-headlights kind of expression on her face, and the feeling of having been thrown into a Jane Austen novel in her gut.

She had indeed bought the dress Leta had shown her, golden and glittering, with its low waist and plunging back. She had also looked into charming her hair into a more appropriate hairdo than her usual bob, and had settled for a head of curls with a headband on which shone the same golden glitters than on her dress. She’d charmed her tiny purse so that it could hold her wand and a vial of dittany – one was never too prudent – before she had walked out the door.

Theseus and Leta had been waiting for her on the pavement, oblivious to the passing Muggles’ lingering looks. Not that they appeared out of place, but both were so jaw-dropping gorgeous that they attracted stares like magnets.

Leta had chosen a burgundy dress that, once again, hugged her frame flatteringly. It had the same plunging back as Rose’s, but the patterns on the fabric looked like they were moving with her, like shimmering water, or wine, rather. She wore a headpiece of lace that highlighted her high cheekbones, and had painted her lips blood red once again.

Theseus wore a suit, like any other Muggle man in such an occasion. He looked very dapper, with his height, build and wonderful grey-green eyes on full display. Rose noticed that, on the lapel of his jacket, he wore a pin in the shape of a badger. Ever the proud Hufflepuff.

“Rose, you look just absolutely magnificent,” was Leta’s greeting, along with a fake peck on her cheek.

Rose smiled, and blushed a bit. “Thanks to you, actually. I’m just helpless when it comes to twenties’ fashion…” Leta’s eyes glinted, in interest, maybe, but Theseus’ amused smirk made Rose turn to him instead. “You look rather handsome, brother. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Very funny, Rose,” he countered with an eye roll. “Come now, or we’ll be late.”

“Merlin forbid we are late at an event where you’ll be able to parade around…”

Theseus huffed before offering her his arm under the cheeky smile of his fiancée, who winked at Rose before they walked to the Disapparition point and flew away to Yorkshire.

* * *

Leta had been correct in her assumption that her fiancé would be whisked away as soon as they stepped through the door. Rose hadn’t had time to look around at the sublime ballroom before a very pompous-looking man walked to them, bowed the head at all three and asked Theseus to follow him to another pompous-looking git.

Leta sighed, grabbed Rose’s hand to place it in the crook of her arm as she usually did nowadays, and walked further into the room. “Told you.”

“It’s just incredible that he’d be pulled away like that as soon as he’s arrived, like some sort of puppet or other.” Rose’s pursed lips and flaming eyes showed her displeasure as she glared at the group of officials across the room. Many people gravitated that way, or tried to steal glances at whoever was the French Minister.

“It’s the price to pay when you are a War Hero, I guess,” Leta answered, as if it was a fatality.

“My parents and Uncle are War Heroes,” Rose said without thinking, “and no one could tear them from their families even if they tried.” She was seething, but when she turned to her companion for the night, she climbed down from her anger immediately, as Leta was staring at her with surprise and curiosity in her lovely dark eyes.

“You know, Theseus said very little about where you came from, Rose,” the burgundy-clad woman said after a while, in a hushed voice. “I’d be honoured to hear it from you, if you ever wanted.”

Rose stared back at her, a small smile forming on her lips. “Only if you do me the same honour, one day.”

Leta smiled a bit sadly, but nodded. “We’ve got ourselves a deal.”

* * *

“Miss Lestrange!” came a call a few minutes later. A tall, stern-looking gentleman with observant eyes walked to them, a grey-haired and proud woman clad in midnight blue on his arm. “Glad to see you. I suppose your fiancé has already been taken as tribute to the French Minister?”

Leta chuckled. “He has indeed.” She turned to Rose, and patted her hand. “I do not think you have met my future sister-in-law, Miss Rose Scamander. Rose, this is Mr Torquil Travers, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and his wife, Madeleine.”

Mr Travers’ eyes narrowed, while his wife smiled. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” she said. “Many a paper has been trying to catch you unawares and describe your likeness, but no one could have guessed that you were so beautiful, my dear.”

Rose flushed, both under the compliment and under the scrutiny of Mr Travers. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Torquil, dear, please stop trying to frighten the poor lamb, and be a dear, grab me a glass of Giggle-Water, will you?” Madeleine Travers’ smile turned mischievous as she gently pushed her husband towards the waiter hovering nearby, and she turned back to Rose. “You must excuse him. He has a tendency to mistrust everyone upon first meeting them. It’s work-related, of course. He sees Grindelwald followers everywhere…” She frowned. “And of course, there is the matter of your sudden arrival, Miss Rose.”

“Yes, I have made quite a mess of things by concealing myself for so long,” she answered quickly. “I should have agreed with my brothers and revealed that Mrs Scamander had adopted me as soon as it happened. I guess I was scared that they’d turn me away…”

Leta squeezed her arm, but it wasn’t in comfort. It was regarding the lies spun around Rose’s existence, she knew it.

Mrs Travers didn’t take the bait, or look suspicious, and smiled again. “You truly are a lovely young woman, Miss Rose. I hope we will see each other again. Miss Lestrange, please pass on my regards to Theseus, if you catch him. I will join my husband now and save him from the dreadful Mister Prince.” She bowed the head and walked towards where Mr Travers was indeed in conversation with a black-haired, mousy-looking gentleman who visibly annoyed him greatly.

Leta turned to Rose as soon as Mrs Travers had walked away. “You need to be careful what you say here. Everything will be recorded in their minds. Madeleine seems harmless enough, but she was a Ravenclaw, and some say she has the Sight.” She sighed, and plastered a mask of cordiality on her face once more. “Let’s grab a drink, and find an empty table. I’m already longing for home, and we’ve been here ten minutes…”

* * *

The evening stretched on a bit. At first, most people talked to each other, went from person to person, sharing smiles, forced or not, and drinks. Then, about an hour after Rose and Leta had chosen a table away from the crowd, an enchanted orchestra started playing, and some guests started dancing. Waltzing, actually, and only once, displaying a great knowledge of modern Charleston. Leta told Rose it was a Muggle dance, which is probably why it wasn’t played again.

Some people wandered to their table to greet Leta and stare pointedly at Rose as if she was some new creature to be ogled. She took it all with a set jaw and a tendency to bury her nose into her glass of punch, and didn’t think she’d be able to remember half the names that had been thrown at her that night.

Leta found it amusing that she was bothered by her new celebrity. She didn’t know, of course, that Rose had been the centre of attention since she’d been born, the child of two War Heroes, expected to do great things, to exceed her parents, and doomed to fail.

She understood more than ever the exasperated look on Uncle Harry’s face whenever someone walked up to him in the street to shake hands and lick his boots. Figuratively, thank Merlin.

All in all, Rose wanted nothing more than to go home and forget all about this party. As did Leta, she was certain. The other witch looked about to bolt at any given moment. Her new friend suspected that she hadn’t already left only because Theseus wouldn’t be able to know.

Speaking of which, Theseus finally disentangled himself from the two Ministers another hour later, red in the face and looking particularly bored. He grabbed a Firewhiskey on his way to their table, eyes glued to Leta as if to convey a silent message.

He sat between both witches, his back to the crowd, and sighed deeply. “Remind me never to do this again,” he said in a hiss.

Leta smirked as she grabbed his hand to lace their fingers. “I have, several times already, if you recall. You always come back.”

“I must be one of the biggest masochists in History, then,” he smiled, turning his gaze to Rose, and raising a brow. “Well, sister, you look as entertained as I am. Isn’t the party to your liking?”

She made a face. “Don’t try to be funny, Theseus, you’ll only fail.”

He chuckled, and the laughter gave his face a boyish look that Rose found extremely fetching before she reminded herself that this was her ‘brother’, and she couldn’t find him handsome. “What do you say, Letty? Should I punish my sister for her cheek?”

Leta grinned, mischievous glint back in her eyes. “Please, do.”

Rose could only wonder what they meant until Theseus stood, kissed the back of Leta’s hand, and outstretched his own towards her. “Care to dance, Rose?”

His grey-green eyes were glinting, with the drink he’d downed or his own mischief, she didn’t know, but she snorted into her punch anyway. “Absolutely not.”

“Too bad you don’t have a choice, then,” he said as he calmly took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

With a squeak that made Leta laugh, she tried to find her balance before glaring at her fake brother and following him reluctantly onto the dancefloor.

* * *

Theseus drew her into a waltz, unsurprisingly. He let her adjust to the dance, mindful to lead her gently at first, before being bolder into his steering of her around the room.

Rose tried to focus on her feet for a while. She hated the thought of stepping onto his toes; and she had been known to be an appalling dancer. Albus had tried to dance with her a few times before he’d declared her helpless; and even Scorpius had had to admit defeat.

Strangely enough, though, she wasn’t making a fool of herself then. Theseus was more patient, perhaps, than her cousin and friend had been – a Hufflepuff to their Slytherin, no doubt – and he applied more or less force into his grip whenever he felt her sway too dangerously.

After a while, Rose relaxed, surprised, to say the least, that she wasn’t making a complete arse of herself. And when she did relax, she noticed that many a gaze in the room or on the dancefloor was on her and her dance-partner and that many were whispering or pointing in their direction.

“It seems like, for once, I’m not the most interesting person in the room,” Theseus whispered, making a shiver run up Rose’s spine. His mouth had been closer to her ear than she’d expected. She had to be careful of her body’s reaction to him, she realised with a shock.

“I’m not interesting in the slightest,” she countered, “I’m just new. They’ll get tired of staring in a minute.”

“I doubt they will, Rosie,” he said, earning himself a glare to his shoulder. “Not when you are dressed like this.”

She pushed herself away a bit, enough to stare into his eyes, unsure what he’d meant. Instead of asking, she just said “Please don’t call me Rosie. I hate it.”

He tilted his head to the side, and it was so similar to Newt’s own ticks that it helped her relax some more. “And what shall I call you, then, sister mine?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Anything but Rosie.”

“Mmh,” he faked pondering. “What about ‘Rosiekins’? Or ‘Flower’? Or-”

“You are insufferable,” she said, but couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, then, call me ‘Rosie’. It’s the last horrifying of the bunch.”

“How does Newton call you?” he asked in a small smile.

“He calls me ‘Rose’. Like a normal person.”

“Unfair,” Theseus countered with a pout as the waltz slowed down and came to a close. “He calls me ‘Theo’ all the time.”

Rose pulled away from him as soon as the music stopped, but she couldn’t help but laugh whole-heartedly. Theseus followed suit as he led her back to Leta, who’d been patiently watching them dance.

“So? Did you enjoy your punishment?” the dark-haired witch asked immediately.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not. That was the point, right?”

Leta’s gaze held some sort of calculating expression to it; one Rose couldn’t decipher but wanted to. Then she turned to her fiancé. “Dance with me, Scamander. And then we’ll go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled softly before leading her away.

Rose, left alone at the table, watched them start of waltz around in a graceful way that showed how much they loved each other. Each step was in tune with their partner’s, and they barely had to touch at all to be perfect dancers.

Somehow, it made her jealous.

And she didn’t know what she was jealous of. Or if she truly wanted to know…


	24. In which Rose Scamander's story come to light

The Ministry ball had awaken some things in Rose’s mind, for sure. She’d understood how tiresome it was to be the centre of everyone’s attention, especially when their scrutiny was misplaced; she’d found that Leta was a lovely person that she’d easily call her friend, given time; and she’d realised, with a vast amount of shame, that she was attracted to Theseus Scamander. Who was posing as her brother. And who was engaged to be married.

The fact was, Rose hadn’t often found someone who piqued her interest as he did. He was handsome, of course, that was a trait shared by both Scamander brothers; but he also was just, kind, intelligent, extremely loyal, gallant, brave, magically gifted, and funny. The package that she’d have asked for any day of the week, where she was from. If Scorpius could have been everything she’d wanted, she wouldn’t have broken his heart as she had done…

After realising that she was developing a dangerous crush on her ‘older brother’, Rose decided that she’d try and veer away from any meeting involving Theseus, unless it was absolutely necessary that either she or he would be present. If someone noticed, they didn’t say.

She kept meeting Leta regularly. They went out for tea almost each week, met in Diagon Alley to buy books or potions’ supplies for Newt, or had girls’ nights out, having dinner at a nice little restaurant in Hogsmeade. They’d grown closer, but neither Leta nor Rose had shared their secrets with the other…yet.

She’d written Queenie, too. She’d told her about Leta; about Theseus; about her wish to not get too close to too many people in this past, in case she could go back home. Queenie had written back that she couldn’t stop living just in case, and that she had to find someone to love. Someone who’d love her back. Rose had almost argued that Newt loved her and she loved him, but she knew Queenie wasn’t talking about fraternal love.

* * *

She’d been writing Tina, for a change, asking the newly-promoted Auror how things were at MACUSA, when a glowing phoenix flew into the room through the window, and perched itself atop a dining chair.

Rose’s eyes widened when she saw it, for Professor Dumbledore hadn’t contacted her in months, and she hadn’t exactly been looking forward to seeing him again after the disaster of their first meeting.

The phoenix opened its beak, and the velvety lilting voice of the DADA Professor rose into the room. “ _Dear Rose, I hope this message will not find you at an inopportune moment. I wish to meet with you, for there is a lot about your personal history that we must still discuss. To avoid an unfortunate repeat of our last meeting, I’m letting you choose the place and time you’d accept to see me. I ask that it is private enough that we can discuss without fear of being eavesdropped on. Looking forward to seeing you again, Albus Dumbledore._ ”

Rose almost felt bad for judging him. Almost. She knew next to nothing about the man, apart from one historical deed and her uncle’s complete devotion. He’d been a portrait in her Headmistress’ office, and that was it. Meeting him in person was different. He was different than anything she’d have thought he could be. There was that slight Ravenclaw arrogance when one mentioned his intellect; but also a mystery, a sadness, a shadow in his blue piercing eyes, hiding something deeper. She wished, not for the first time, that she could question her family about it, but she had to make up her own mind. And she’d never really been good at that…

With a sigh, she called forth her lioness, using the memory of Newt calling her ‘sister’ for the first time. The big cat sat down, lazily surveying the room as if bored, while she delivered her message. “Professor, I will admit that I hesitated before agreeing to see you again, but I thank you for your consideration and offer to meet somewhere else than Hogwarts. I cannot be sure of myself or my reaction to the school anymore. If it is alright with you, let’s meet next Saturday here. Newt is going to another book-signing, so we will not be disturbed. Not that he’d disturb us anyway. He’d probably spend the whole time in the basement as if you were not there.” She laughed before ending the message. “I will see you soon. Rose.”

The lioness yawned, earning herself a glare before it left the room and the house in silence.

Rose felt a lump in her throat. Was Dumbledore going to ask her more questions about herself? Or was he going to tell her what person Rose Scamander supposedly was? His message had been cryptic enough that she didn’t know which one was correct…

* * *

On the morning of the 18th June, 1927, Newt and Bunty left the house to head for Cardiff, where the magizoologist would be signing copies of his book once again. Rose left his assistant a list of things she had to be mindful of, to avoid any kind of discomfort on Newt’s part. Bunty was eager to make sure her hero was as comfortable as could be, and the red-head saw them off, worried but trusting all the same.

At eleven precisely, there was a curt knock on the door, and Albus Dumbledore helped himself in, shedding his bowl-hat and grey jacket as he did. Clad in his tweed vest and trousers, looking as dapper as the first time she’d met him, he smiled at her and joined her in the sitting-room.

“Rose, my dear, how lovely to see you.”

She shook his hand, nervous beyond belief, before offering him tea.

“I don’t mind a cup, thank you. Have you got any sweets? I’d die for one right now…”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Sweets? What kind of sweets do you favour, Professor? I’m afraid I have only Muggle Twiglets nearby.”

“I’ve had those before,” he answered with a grimace, “they’re awful. No, it’s alright, I’ll go buy some on my way back. And I think I’ve asked you to call me Albus, my dear.”

Rose’s jaw set. He noticed, as did he the slight tremble of her fingers as she poured the tea. He grabbed the teapot, eyes shadowed by worry.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, trying to go back to a jovial countenance, and failing. “I’d rather not call you Albus, if you don’t mind… It’s…difficult.” Under his quizzical gaze, she explained “My cousin is named Albus. After you, in fact.”

His blue eyes widened, in surprise, shock, then delight, then more shock. “Someone called their son after me? How strange… I’m not the kind of person anyone would call their child after…”

“Well, my uncle did. And I’ve told you enough, I think.” She cleared her throat. “You wanted to discuss my life?”

Still curious about the whole ‘Albus’ thing, he didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he smiled. “Yes. I think it’s time to complete Rose Scamander’s timeline, don’t you? Of course, I am still working on sending you back to your century,” he said quickly, “but more and more people will be asking after you, and we need a fool proof story to give them.”

She nodded. “That’s a sound idea. Theseus told me some things, already. And you, of course.”

* * *

Dumbledore took his wand out of his sleeve and waved it elegantly through the air. A parchment and quill appeared, hovering above the coffee table as it scribbled. “What do you already know of our little charade?”

“I’m supposed to have been born Rose Carter. My parents died when I was at Hogwarts, and Newt and Theseus’ parents adopted me then. I’m still a Gryffindor. And a Healer, first female to hold the title at Saint Mungo’s, though I’ve never been there at all.”

“Yes, little changes to that,” Dumbledore provided. “Newt and Theseus’ father died in 1912. Dragon pox. So you were adopted by their mother only. Her name is Tereis, she’s currently abroad studying the new breeding techniques of Hippogriffs.” He paused. “You left Hogwarts after your parents died and were home-schooled for the remainder of your school-years.”

Rose nodded. “That would explain why nobody would remember me at Hogwarts. How old was I?”

“Thirteen. You’d almost finished your Second Year. The only teachers we’d have to worry about are therefore either retired, or too old to remember you. Professor Binns was even convinced he _had_ had a Scamander girl as a student, when I probed him to see if he’d be a problem.”

Rose chuckled. “Professor Binns has always been a bit weird.” She paused, eyes suddenly widening. “Is he still alive?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Has been a ghost for seventeen years. Do I have to understand that, a century from now, he is still teaching?”

“He is,” she answered, teeth gritted, “and he’s not really good at it.”

“Ah. Well, I apologize on behalf of Hogwarts’ staff.” With a smile, he carried on with the matter at hand. “I’ve convinced Saint-Mungo’s Director that you had studied abroad – in France – and that you had passed your exams to become a Healer at home. He had not real reason to refuse your accreditation, since France is much more ‘tolerant’ of female Healers. Especially now that the First World War has taken its toll. I’m not certain you could work there, but at least, you do hold the title of Healer.” He waved his wand again, and a roll of parchment appeared and landed gently on the couch next to Rose. “You can read that later. It’s your diploma. I doubt that a lot would have changed in a century, Hippocrates’s oath has remained the same for eons.”

Rose smiled, placing the roll in her lap. It was as if she was holding her degree for the first time again. The emotion was raw; the pride was surging through her. She still was a Healer. Three long years of studies hadn’t amounted to nothing. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“Of course, that leaves us with a few issues. Since I pretended you studied in France, there is the matter of where you were during the year between your graduation, and your first appearance in New-York last December.”

Rose pondered. “I think it’d be easier to spin a lie with a bit of truth in it.” Dumbledore smirked, appreciating the sentiment, apparently. “I am subject to panic attacks. I have only recently managed to work past them, and to get out of the house.”

“That works for me,” he said, before a worried look settled on his face. “Have you had any more, since last time we saw each other?”

She shrugged. “A couple. At night, mostly. Nightmares. I don’t like to wake Newt, so I wait until they go away.”

Dumbledore pursed his lips. He stood, made the parchment and quill disappear with their set of notes, and turned to her again. “As a Healer, I suppose you are rather good at Potions-making?”

“I am,” she answered immediately. “I haven’t had the opportunity to brew anything lately, but I did get an Outstanding in my N.E.W.T.”

“And my congratulations. I did only manage an Exceed Expectations myself. Never was very fond of the subject. Anyway,” he seemed to go from one idea to the other, as if his brain was overcome with too much again, “if I can, I will send you the necessary ingredients to brew Dreamless Sleep. I trust you with the dosage, but I do not want you to exhaust yourself physically and emotionally because of those nightmares.” A sad smile appeared on his lips. “No matter how important the people in them are…”

For a split second, Rose had the impression that he knew exactly what she was going through, that he too had lost his family so quickly that he hadn’t had time to properly grieve. Then she shoved the idea away. Albus Dumbledore wouldn’t show weakness.

* * *

He’d grabbed his jacket and hat to leave when an owl flew in from the open front door Rose had been holding for him.

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed as he saw his name on the envelope, and grabbed it eagerly when he noticed the Ministry seal. Which Rose noticed too.

She didn’t want to be nosy, but if the Minister for Magic was writing Albus Dumbledore in such an urgent fashion, the matter must have been serious.

“Impossible,” he breathed, eyes wide and…..fearful?

Rose closed the door and got closer. “Professor? Is everything alright?”

Without a word, he passed her the letter. Any other day, she knew she would never have been made privy to his correspondence. This should have made her understand.

“ _Dumbledore, it is with great pain and disappointment that I have to inform you that, earlier this morning, Gellert Grindelwald escaped MACUSA’s custody, and is on the run once more. Hector Fawley, Minister for Magic._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello people, and once again, thank you to those who sent me kudos on this story, I really appreciate it. :)  
> I'm aware that this chapter was a bit of a filler, although important information comes to light here. Therefore....one more chapter for you today! ;)


	25. In which Newt is offered a questionable job

Grindelwald’s escape put the wizarding world back on full alert. Only a day after the announcement, Theseus sent word to Newt that he was commissioned with finding Grindelwald and gathering intel about his possible followers.

In early July, Leta spent the night at Newt’s, in Rose’s room. She’d never been to the house before, but Newt hadn’t thought for long before letting her in after witnessing her obvious distress. Theseus had been sent to Wexford, Ireland, where Grindelwald was allegedly hosting a rally, to stop him. She was petrified by fear of losing him, and Rose held her through the night.

All around London, one could find the symbol that they usually thought was the Dark Wizard’s emblem, but that Rose knew to be the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. It would be drawn on walls at crossroads, or painted in dark alleys. Sometimes, the words ‘For the Greater Good’ accompanied it.

She loathed having to be there during Grindelwald’s rise for power. She remembered from her History of Magic class that he’d gathered quite the number of followers throughout the 1930s, and that those followers had killed Muggles at will, trying to make them bow to fear and to magic on the longer term.

She didn’t know anything about his earlier days, though. Didn’t know where he was supposed to be, who’d be with him, or how he’d get to the point where Albus Dumbledore would defeat him in a duel in 1945. Almost twenty years in the future.

Newt had carried on with his life as if nothing had changed, but Rose knew that he was worried as well. He’d sent several forms to the Ministry of Magic to get his passport back, as if he was expecting to travel abroad soon. He taught Bunty more and more things every day, too, as if he was expecting to leave for a long time. Rose tried, but failed to get him to tell her what he was preparing for.

She had stopped studying plants and remedies soon after Grindelwald’s escape. Writing a book with Newt suddenly didn’t seem like the right thing to do on the brink of another wizarding war – one she was unsure started in 1927, but one she had to be ready for anyway – and she had chosen instead to gather as many Healing supplies as she could. She’d charmed a handbag in a similar fashion as her mother used to do, so that she could carried them all with her if they ever were needed.

Newt had bought her her own cauldron, and she was often seen at night brewing one thing or other, muttering to herself.

* * *

The Scamanders were ready for war. While the rest of the world seemed oblivious, or worse, was rallying the ranks of the enemy. An insidious enemy, with a silver-tongue that Minister Fawley could never hope to counter.

And one morning, they found themselves facing an old and dark staircase that, once upon a time, might have led to an underground station. In 1927, however, it served as the Ministry of Magic’s public entrance. Rose missed the bright red phone booth that was infinitely more welcoming than a dark flight of stairs at the bottom of which was a wall you had to pass through. Even that wasn’t very nice, the sensation immensely more disagreeable than the barrier on Platform 9 ¾.

Newt had dutifully grabbed her hand as soon as they’d passed the wall and into the Ministry’s huge atrium. Rose was grateful for the focus he provided her with, because she was assaulted with memories so varied and numerous that she could have been struck dead and wouldn’t have noticed.

Instead of paper planes, owls were flying about; leaving quite a mess on the ground or on the many windows of the offices that gave onto the atrium. House Elves and wizards alike were running from corner to corner to clean up the mess, but she noticed that many a Ministry employee had conjured a shield above their heads to protect their hats or hair.

Newt pulled her towards the lift, and the same disincarnate voice than a century later announced, in a horribly dead tone, ‘Level Two, Department of Magical Law and Enforcement’, letting them exit onto lush carpets in a vast corridor.

Rose could close her eyes and yet find the Minister for Magic’s office without needing direction. She’d been at that same level so many times since she’d been a little girl, she felt like home, almost. She could picture her mum, holding her hand and showing her to Uncle Harry’s office when she was five; could see the exact position of the compass on her mother’s desk when she’d first visited the new Minister Granger; could almost smell the parchment and quills used by Madeline, her mother’s personal assistant.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and Newt turned to her. “Rose? Is it too much?”

She shook her head, reining the tears back in. “I’m sorry. It’s just. My mum works here.” His eyes widened, but he didn’t ask her to elaborate, which she was again grateful for.

Instead, he led her to a bench that opened onto the Atrium below. “Here. Sit down. I’ll stay until you feel better.” She immediately felt a surge of affection for the quiet wizard, who hadn’t questioned her frequent panic attacks or shown any kind of impatience, and had always shown he wanted to help. “Leta can wait for a few minutes,” he added in a whisper.

Rose had only come with him because Leta had asked her to come and see her new place of work. A week prior, she’d announced in a letter that Theseus had convinced her to join the Ministry, where she’d be safe, and she had been appointed Assistant to Mr Travers, the Head Auror that they had seen at the Ministry party.

She nodded, and closed her eyes. “Thank you. And sorry again.”

“Don’t be.” He squeezed her hand once more and waited for her breathing to settle. He was to meet with aforementioned Mr Travers to see if he could travel abroad again. It was his fifth attempt. Rose would have wanted to be in the room with him to plead his case, but she couldn’t, and anyway, it wouldn’t have done him any good if he showed he couldn’t put an argument down for himself.

Time ticked by, and Rose’s heart calmed down a notch as she kept her eyes closed and focused on Newt’s own breathing. When she realised they’d been sitting there for the good part of ten minutes, however, she gasped and sprung to her feet. “Newt! You’ll be late! You can’t be late!”

He stared at her, half-amused half-worried. A small smile settled on his lips. “It’s alright. I’d rather stay here.”

“You’re adorable, really,” she said, freeing his hand from hers, “but I don’t want you to be late to your appointment. It’s too important.” She shoved him forward, and his brow furrowed.

“Won’t you walk with me?”

She gritted her teeth. The Minister’s office was further down that hall. She wasn’t sure she could walk even a single step forward, knowing what was there. “I’d rather stay here. I don’t want to panic again. If you see Leta, can you tell her I’m here?”

He nodded sheepishly, and grabbed her hand to squeeze it for another second.

Before he disappeared down the corridor, she called “Good luck!” and he turned around, patting his breast-pocket.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got Picket with me.”

As if the tiny Bowtruckle was a lucky charm…

* * *

Minutes ticked by again. Rose tried to focus on the owls flying about, but every time her eyes followed one, her gaze fell onto something too familiar and painful.

The huge Fountain in the middle of the Atrium caught her eye at one point, and she stared at it, overcome with pain and memories. Her Dad had had to grab Hugo by his trousers once, as the small red-haired boy had wanted to dive into the water to gather the coins at the bottom. James had once tried to draw a moustache onto the Goblin’s likeness, and had been thoroughly reprimanded by one of the guards who then explained that the Fountain could not be degraded anymore.

Voldemort and his followers had done enough damage to it, once upon a time…

The panic attack that took her was steady, rose in her veins quietly, so quietly there was nothing she could have done to stop it. Her heart pace quickened dangerously, and her breathing became shallow. Rose clutched at her chest, trying to find something to anchor herself to, especially now that Newt wasn’t there to hold her hand. It was difficult to fathom how much she depended on him now.

Stumbling to her feet, she clawed her way to the lifts, and pushed on the button that would take her back down to the Atrium. She must have missed, for when the doors opened, she was instead in the Department of Mysteries. She didn’t notice the black polished walls and eerie silence until she was halfway through the main corridor, facing the entrance to the famed Department.

When she realised where she’d landed, Rose fell to her knees, black spots shadowing her sight. She clutched at her neck this time, remembering the weight of the Time-Turner that had sent her here and that had been invented within these very walls. She screamed, then. Loud and clear, before the sobs overtook her.

She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear above the sound of her heartbeats, could only despair and see her family’s faces as they told her she’d abandoned them.

* * *

Rose became slowly aware of hands upon her. Hands that were not hers. She panicked again, slapping those hands away, dazed and blinded by her own ragged breathing.

She could faintly hear several voices around her, one closer than the others. She tried to focus onto it, because it was vaguely familiar.

“Rose, Rose, listen to me. Listen to me. Breathe, please. Breathe.”

A name formed in her mind, and she grasped it tightly, focusing on it and on the person who was named thus. Theseus.

“Rose, I’m going to take your hand now.” A pressure on her hand, pulling it away from her throat. “Let’s get you up. You all, move away, please, my sister isn’t feeling well.” The last sentence had been said in a hiss, with a heavy dose of irritation, in contrast with the gentle way he spoke to her.

Rose had no idea how long she’d been on the floor of the Ministry, sobbing and trying to tear her own heart out of her chest. But it had apparently been long enough for a little crowd to gather around her, and for her ‘brother’ to be called for help.

When she was standing again, Rose’s vision cleared a notch. Theseus was standing in front of her, very close, and she understood he was hiding their surroundings from her. She was immensely grateful, though part of her didn’t get how he knew exactly what to do.

“Come on,” he whispered, “I’ll take you home. Close your eyes, and focus on my voice.” He took a pace backwards, pulling her forwards, and slowly, gently, he led her back to the lift. When they were back in the Atrium and the buzzing of employees and visitors, Rose whimpered, and Theseus held her closer. “You are in a field, in spring. The wind in howling in your ears, making you trip and fall. You roll around in the grass, and settle, facing the sky, where a dragon is lazily flying around in circles. The sound of its wings flapping lulls you to sleep, and the wind calms down, making you aware of the buzz of bees and the trickling of water nearby…”

Rose listened to his tale. Focused on the words and the imagery it conjured. It calmed her down so quickly that, when she opened her eyes next, she was surprised to find they were outside, on top of the stairs hiding the entrance to the Ministry.

“Theseus?” she croaked. “I’m so sorry for what happened. So sorry.”

The taller wizard turned to face her, never once letting go of her arm and hand. “Don’t ever apologize for something you cannot control.” He sighed. “Are you capable of Apparating on your own?”

She hissed in a breath. “I don’t think so. I think I’ll Splinch myself.”

He nodded gravely. “Close your eyes.” Once again, she did as he asked, and he pulled her into a Side-Along.

* * *

The familiar smell of baby Niffler invaded her nostrils as soon as they’d landed. She recognized the scent of her own room, since said baby Nifflers thought it a good place to hide on most days, and she found them buried in her covers almost daily.

She fell back onto the bed blindly, releasing Theseus’ hands as she did. Tears sprang free from her eyes again, and she felt more than she heard him kneeling on the ground in front of her.

“Rose,” he said steadily. It made her open her eyes, even if his face was blurry through her tears. “How long have you had panic attacks?”

She sobbed through a “Ever since I’ve been back to England. Familiar settings trigger them.”

“Have you had one at Hogwarts, then?” he asked, worry laced through his words.

She nodded. “And the Leaky Cauldron. And Hogsmeade.”

He nodded back, sighed, and took her hand once more, tracing circles on her palm to calm her down. It worked a treat, since Rose’s body almost immediately focused on the feeling, and on the very handsome man helping her through a horrid day. “I’ve had them too, when I came back from the War.” It was almost too quiet for her to hear. “I still have some, sometimes. Picturing a peaceful setting always helps me.”

Rose stared at him, heart swelling in pain in her chest at the idea that he’d had to suffer PTSD after the trenches. “Newt is usually there to hold my hand. It helps, most of the time.”

“Well, Newt can’t always be there,” Theseus said, staring at her to emphasize the present. “Try and get some rest. He’s left the Ministry a bit before I found you, he shouldn’t be long. I’ll tell him what happened.”

Suddenly, Rose felt exhausted beyond belief. Outside her window, London was swallowed by a wave of mist that hadn’t been talked about in the weather forecast. She lied back onto the covers, and watched Theseus turn to exit the room.

“Theseus?” she stopped him. She waited until he’d turned his grey-green eyes back to her to carry on. “Thank you for today.”

“Anytime,” he said, and as he closed the door to let her rest, she blushed.


	26. In which a mission is revealed

When Rose woke up, it felt like days had passed, when a simple Tempus charm told her that it had instead been about three hours; it was by then dark outside. She’d been woken by a commotion downstairs, and immediately thought that the baby Nifflers had once again managed to escape the basement and raid the dining room. They often did that when Newt wasn’t home and Bunty was occupied elsewhere.

She straightened her skirt and chemise before heading downstairs. She could hear Newt’s voice. He was home. She felt a small shiver run up her spine at the memory of what had happened in the Ministry; but she could ask him what had occurred there and after without fear of another panic attack. She had a feeling that, for him to run off without trying to find her first, something important had been discussed.

As she descended the stairs, she was reminded of Theseus’ actions, of his admission that he’d been through the same struggles as her, of his gentle treatment of her as he took her home. A warmth settled near her heart, and she scolded herself. Theseus was engaged. To Leta, who she really liked a lot. She had to stop feeling things for him in such a manner. It would not do.

* * *

When she entered the dining-room, Rose froze. Hand half-poised to grab her wand, she stared pointlessly at the two people who had barged into Newt’s home, two people who shouldn’t be here, especially not one of them.

“ _Queenie? Jacob?!_ ”

The blonde witch was the first to turn around, a wide smile on her lips as she hurried to her and pulled her into a choking hug. “ _Rose!_ Oh Rose, I’m so happy to see you, I’ve missed you so much!”

Rose hugged her back for about two seconds before she pulled away, completely awestruck. “But…you didn’t tell me… In your last letter-”

“ _Miss Rose!_ Come here, darlin’!” She couldn’t finish her train of thoughts, because Jacob, Obliviated, Muggle baker Jacob, brought her into a hug as well before popping a kiss on her cheek.

“Hey,” she barely managed, staring at Newt over Jacob’s shoulder, as if to say ‘What the Hell?’. He stared back, visibly as shocked as she was.

When Jacob released her, Rose stood closer to Newt, and kept staring. Jacob was wheezing in laughter, as if the house, or the reunion, was the funniest thing he’d witnessed in his entire life. She may have not seen him in nine months, but she didn’t recall him as being this…silly.

“But,” Newt started, incredulously, “you were supposed to have been Obliviated.”

“I _know_ ,” Jacob wheezed again, making Rose furrow her brow. “It didn’t work, pal! What you said, the potion erases bad memories; I didn’t have any.” He took off his coat, and carried on. “Don’t get me wrong, I had some weird ones and I had some scary ones, but uh…this angel,” he dropped his coat to the ground, and Queenie picked it up, puzzling Rose even more, “this angel over here, she filled me in on all the bad parts, and…here we are, I guess!”

Newt grinned then, and Rose felt her heart soar at the sight. He was so happy to have his friend back, while she was trying to find something wrong. She should be delighted to see Queenie again, after so many months writing to each other. But…her gut was telling her something, and wouldn’t let her settle.

“It’s _wonderful_!” Newt huffed joyfully as Jacob nuzzled Queenie’s neck in a strange, dazed way. The red-haired wizard then had this passing emotion on his face, and he passed their two impromptu guests. “Wait… Tina?”

Rose met Queenie’s gaze. She frowned at her friend, pointedly looking at Jacob, but Queenie just blushed and looked back at Newt, who was searching for his crush. Who wasn’t there, Rose understood at once. She hadn’t expected her to be.

“It’s just us, honey, me and Jacob,” said the lovely witch, as if she was surprised he’d ask for her sister. “Why don’t I make us some dinner, uh?”

Jacob moved away from her and her neck, a wide smile appearing on his lips. “Yes!”

Rose shared another puzzled glance with Newt, and followed Queenie as she entered the kitchen, owning the place as if she’d been there all her life.

* * *

The evening stretched on, and things became stranger by the minute. After Queenie had quickly conjured dinner from what Newt had in his cupboards and new fridge – a Muggle invention he rather appreciated – she sat Jacob down at the table as if he was an infant learning how to sit down properly.

Rose, who sat on Newt’s left side and Jacob’s right, placed her napkin on her lap, studying what was happening with her Healer gears turning in her head. She was by then trying to find a medical reason for Jacob’s behaviour, which really was far from normal.

Queenie was placing her boyfriend’s napkin around his neck when she muttered “Tina and I aren’t talkin’.”

Newt looked at her funnily. “Why?”

“Oh, well, you know, she found out about Jacob and I seeing each other and she didn’t like it, ‘cause o’ the law. Not allowed to date No-Majs, not allowed to marry them, blablabla.”

She was cutting Jacob’s food now. Rose was astounded that Newt hadn’t addressed the matter yet. She was about to do so herself, but the conversation carried on as if she wasn’t there.

“Anyway, she was already in a tissy ‘cause of you.”

“Me?” Newt asked, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Yeah, you! It was all over _Spellbook_ , see, I brought it for you,” she summoned a magazine that looked like the American version of _Witch Weekly_. Rose sneered.

“You shouldn’t read such trash, Queens.”

Queenie ignored her – again, odd – and opened the magazine to a certain page. A photograph was displayed there, showing Newt and Bunty at one of his book-signings. Bunty was gazing at him adoringly, and the legend said ‘ _Newt Scamander and unknown woman attend book-signing’_.

Rose understood immediately. “Tina thinks Newt is involved with _Bunty_?” She chuckled darkly. “Bunty is Newt’s _assistant_ , Queenie. I told you about her in my last letter.”

Queenie shrugged. “Don’t remember.”

Rose frowned again.

“Anyway, Tina saw that and…she started dating someone else. He’s an Auror. His name’s Achilles Tolliver.”

“ _Tolliver_ ,” Jacob slurred as Newt’s face turned into a mask of pain.

“Anyway,” Queenie continued as if all was absolutely normal, “we’re really excited to be here, Newt. This is…well, this is a very special trip for us. You see, Jacob and I, _we’re getting married!_ ”

In any other circumstances, if Rose had known beforehand that one of her closest friends in this era was visiting; if she’d known what was wrong with Jacob and why this whole setting was painful in the first place; she’d have been ecstatic. She’d have jumped to her feet to hug Queenie and congratulate her and Jacob, whom Rose was fond of as well.

But no. She just sat there, frozen, gaping like a fish, unable to finally ask what the fuck was going on.

“I’m marrying Jacob!” then exclaimed the chubby baker before he threw the contents of his drink onto his own face.

It was finally too much for Newt, who stared at Queenie very hard. Rose understood that he was conveying a message for the Legilimens she was, because she said, as if answering him, “What? I have not!”

“Will you stop reading my mind,” Newt then said.

Again, she answered a silent claim. “That is an outrageous accusation. Look at him: he’s just happy. He’s so happy…”

Newt stood, taking hold of my wand. Rose was shocked, but did the same. Just in case. “Then you won’t mind if I-”

Queenie stood, placing herself between Newt’s wand and Jacob. Rose watched the exchange, and finally understood. Newt thought Queenie had enchanted Jacob. Placed a spell upon him that made him…this…slurry and sluggish person he was not.

“How _could_ you, Queens?” she finally croaked. Disappointment didn’t even cover what she felt for her friend right then. She was on the verge of exploding with outrage. The Healer in her found it appalling that someone who claimed to love him had bewitched kind and lovely Jacob and made him this…

“Queenie, you’ve got nothing to fear if you want to get married,” Newt continued, not looking the blonde in the eyes. “We can lift the enchantment and he can tell us himself.”

Queenie’s face turned into one of fear, but she backed off, while Jacob just looked as entertained as he had since entering the house. “What’s you got there?” he laughed, looking at Newt’s wand. “What’s you gonna do? What’s you gonna do, Mr Scamander?”

Newt then cast a spell known to few, and Rose was once again surprised to see the extent of his knowledge of Healing spells, when this was one she’d learnt in her last year of studies. “ _Surgito._ ”

Pink wisps of a love spell surged from Jacob’s body, and he trembled for a bit, before being released. Rose dropped her wand and knelt beside him at once, noting the sweat on his forehead and checking pulse and temperature at once.

Newt just said “Congratulations on your engagement, Jacob.”

The baker seemed entirely lost. He glanced down at Rose, as if surprised to see her, then asked “ _What?_ ” Newt pointedly looked at Queenie, who was standing behind Jacob. Said man gently pushed Rose away and turned to his fiancée, and said “Oh no, you didn’t…”

Queenie didn’t need to hear the rest. She turned to grab the suitcase she’d placed next to the couch, and moved to grab her coat too.

Jacob excused himself from the table, back to himself, as Rose sat on the floor, utterly shocked. “Wait. _Queenie!_ ”

But the witch had already gone through the door.

Jacob went to follow her, and turned to Newt and Rose. “It was very nice to see you both. Where the Hell am I?”

Newt stuttered. “Uh…L-London.”

“ _Ah!_ I’ve always wanted to go here! _Queenie!_ ” He went after her, leaving the Scamanders to stare at each other blankly.

Rose, still on the floor, eyes wide and brain muddled, said “What just happened, Newt?”

He stared at her, equally stunned. “I have no idea.”

* * *

It was a few minutes before Newt gathered his wits, noticing bits of paper that must have fallen from Queenie’s bag or coat. After he uttered “ _Papyrus Reparo_ ” and helped Rose to her feet, they watched as a lovely postcard titled ‘Paris’ reformed itself in the air. Newt snatched it, and turned it over to read it.

Rose didn’t, but saw the signature all the same. _Tina._ Tina was in Paris. But why?

She turned to her brother. “Newt, what happened at the Ministry?”

He didn’t look back at her, entranced by Tina’s writing and name. Smitten. Ugh. “They didn’t give me my permit back. I still can’t go abroad.” Something in his eyes told her he wanted to, though. “They wanted me to look for Credence.”

“Credence?” the young Healer asked. “But, he’s-”

“Dead, yes, that’s what I thought too. But Theseus said he’d survived. And they wanted me to find him. Because Grindelwald is also looking for him.”

Rose gritted her teeth. “They want to use you.”

“I said no.”

“Of course you said no,” she said with force, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look at her. “But who are they going to send after him, now? Who could possibly treat him the way he should be: like a person?”

Newt’s eyes turned sad. “They’ll send Grimmson.” She didn’t know who that was, but had a feeling he wasn’t a good person. “He’s cruel, and he’s wanted Theseus’ job forever. He’d do anything to humiliate him. And me.”

“Then I hate him.” She took the postcard from him. “What are you going to do?”

He stared at her, determined. “I’m going to go to Paris. If Tina is there, it has something to do with Credence.” He added after a moment, “Dumbledore wanted me to go there anyway.”

“Dumbledore?!”

“He found me after I left the Ministry.”

“This man’s meddling nature shouldn’t surprise me by now, but it still does.” She nodded once. “I’m going with you. I’ve been to Paris before.”

He didn’t disagree.

* * *

A few moments later, as she was running upstairs to, first, change into a more comfortable outfit, namely, trousers, and packed her Extended bag with what she thought would be the necessities, Rose heard the front door open and close again. She’d expected both Queenie and Jacob to have joined them, having resolved their issues, but when she got to the basement to find Newt, only Jacob was with him.

“Where’s Queens?” she asked.

Jacob turned to her. “She left. She left me. We…fought.”

“ _She left?!_ ” Rose felt a cold dread fill her veins then. “To go where?”

“She said she’d go visit her sister.”

“Tina is in Paris,” Newt provided. Jacob nodded thoughtfully.

Rose stared blankly at a part of staircase.

Porpentina’s letter. The reason why she’d had her life stolen from her. She had to save Queenie. About a year from 1926. Could it be that future Tina wanted her to save her sister _from herself_? From the error she’d made in bewitching Jacob? In fleeing?

“Does she know where Tina is?” she asked, voice laced with terror. Newt looked at her worriedly.

Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Rose gritted her teeth then. “Newt. _Newt,_ ” she waited for him to properly look at her. “The reason I’m here,” she ignored Jacob’s curious glance, “that’s it. I have to find Queenie.”

Newt’s green eyes widened, and he didn’t say anything for a while.

Then, solemnly, he nodded. “Let’s go.”


	27. In which Newt smuggles himself into Paris

Newt had packed his old suitcase, taking a few of his creatures with him – unsurprisingly, the Nifflers – and pinned notes destined to Bunty all over the basement. Rose thought it wise to leave one for Theseus, because she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that what they were about to do would go back to the Ministry. And he’d be pissed.

So, as Newt took Jacob in his first of two Side-Along Apparitions to somewhere near Dover, she whirled her wand and watched as a tiny note appeared, and her scribbles turned into the word ‘ _Theseus, I’ll look after him. Rose_.’ That was the best she could do without telling him anything more about where or why they were leaving.

When Newt reappeared to take her to the cliffs too, she sighed, and thought of Leta, and the dinner she was supposed to go to at her and Theseus’ place…

* * *

“Newt, why here?” she asked when they’d appeared on top of the white cliffs, some miles from the city. She’d been there as a child, visiting Muggle sights with her parents, but never to smuggle away to France.

“It’s the easiest way. Trust me,” he said before walking to Jacob, who was staring at the calm Channel before them. “Jacob, this man Tina is seeing…”

Jacob interrupted with a chuckle. “When she’d gonna see you and when she sees the five of us together, it’ll be just like New-York all over again. Don’t worry,” he added as Newt was about to intervene.

“But he’s an Auror, Queenie said.”

“Yeah, he’s an Auror, so what? Don’t worry about him.”

Rose walked a few paces behind the two friends, and smiled. Jacob was such a good friend to Newt. He was kind to him, patient, admirative, and his funny demeanour completed Newt’s introverted side quite well. She was overcome with happiness over having him back with them.

“What do you think I should say to her if I see her?”

Rose chuckled. “What about ‘I love you, will you marry me?’”

Jacob turned to her with a cheeky smile. “Now now, Rose, careful, you’re going to make him faint.” He turned back to Newt. “It’s better not to plan these things. Really just say whatever comes to you in the moment.”

Wise words, romantic too, Rose thought.

Newt’s answer…not so much. “She really has eyes just like a salamander.”

Jacob stared at him disbelievingly. “Don’t say that.”

Rose concurred and walked faster to catch up with them, familiarly taking Jacob’s arm and linking them together. “Yeah, don’t say that, Newt. I’m not sure she’d understand what you mean…”

Newt’s green eyes were back to their ‘battered puppy’ routine, something she always found infuriatingly cute. Even Jacob was not immune, because he continued to try helping the poor smitten sod. “Look, just tell her that you’ve missed her, right, and then, that you came all the way to Paris just to find her. She’ll love that. And then, tell her you’re losing sleep at night just thinking of her and… Just don’t say nothin’ about those salamanders, alright?”

Newt’s lost look was too much to handle for Rose, who freed Jacob and took his arm instead. “Hey, it’s going to be alright.”

“We’re in this together, pal,” continued Jacob. “I’m gonna help ya out. We’ll find Tina, find Queenie, and we’ll be happy again, just like old times.”

Newt smiled, and Rose was satisfied.

He truly was like a fourteen-year-old faced with his first crush. Annoyingly adorable.

That was Newton Scamander in a nutshell, though: annoyingly adorable.

* * *

“Who’s this guy?”

Jacob was pointing at a man standing on the edge of the cliff, dressed like some sort of weird fisherman, holding a staff and standing next to a plain metal bucket.

Rose wasn’t reassured by his appearance, and grabbed her wand, just in case. Even if she had an idea about what exactly was going to take them all three to France… She was a witch, after all…

“He’s the only way I can leave the country without any documentation,” Newt provided, proving Rose right. “You don’t suffer from motion sickness, do you?”

“I don’t do well on boats, Newt.”

The wizard looked amused for a second. “You’ll be fine.” He nodded at Rose who nodded back. She knew what this was all about. A bloody Portkey. Again.

“Hurry up, stomps. Leaves in one minute,” cut the stranger with a thick Irish accent. “Fifty Galleons.”

Newt groaned. “We’d said thirty.”

“Thirty to go to France, twenty not to tell anyone I’ve seen Newt Scamander and his pretty sister leave the country illegally.” He winked at Rose, who grimaced.

“You know what the pretty sister is thinking about doing right now?” she hissed. “She’s thinking about a lovely hex that could see you sucking your thumb and pissing your pants like an infant.”

The smuggler smirked. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, lassie.” He looked back at Newt. “Forty-eight, for the lady.”

“So I’m worth two Galleons. Wonderful,” she said, rolling her eyes and cursing the likes of men.

“Price of fame, pal.” He glanced down at the bucket. “Ten seconds.”

Rose sighed again, and got closer to Newt, grabbing onto the hand that was holding his case firmly. She chuckled when he outstretched the other to Jacob, who hesitated quite a bit before taking it.

And then, Newt stepped into the bucket, and something disagreeable took hold of Rose near her navel. The Portkey took them off the cliffs and into a swirl of colour, amidst Jacob’s yell of surprise and fright…

* * *

When they landed, Rose had to find her footing, while Jacob took hold of the bucket and promptly vomited. She didn’t think badly of him for it: she’d done the same thing the first time she’d journeyed via Portkey. Nasty things.

“Newt…” she muttered when she realised where they’d landed – thankfully, in an alley away from the buzzing street. “We’re in Montmartre.” And 1927 Paris was startlingly similar to 2023 Paris…

He nodded absent-mindedly, already bent on finding his way to Tina. “You know Paris? Good. I may need directions. Or someone speaking French.”

She pursed her lips. “I can help with both. Thank you for making me feel like a walking road-map.”

He didn’t answer, and pulled them forward, and towards a flight of stairs. A bronze statue of a ballerina had been mounted on a column, and as they approached, Rose saw it move.

After Newt Confunded a policeman who was standing too close, he led Rose and Jacob through the column and into Wizarding Paris.

The sensation wasn’t unlike the first time she’d stepped into Diagon Alley.

* * *

There were a few changes in scenery when they stepped into the Wizarding part of France’s capital. Although Rose had visited Paris before, she didn’t remember ever visiting its magical side. Her mother had been adamant in showing her family the Muggle side of it, and she hadn’t strayed from her plan even once. To Rose’s Dad’s displeasure.

There were more colours in the façades on this side, and many more colourful shops left and right. Not to mention, of course, the attires of the people themselves: less Muggle-looking clothes, and more robes and pointy hats of all colours. At last, Rose was seeing the usual witch and wizard’s clothes again. She’d begun to wonder when they’d gotten into fashion when, in her time, almost no Pureblood or Half-Blood dressed like Muggles.

Newt didn’t stop to sight-see, however. He all but ran to a crossroads of sorts on the paved street, put his case on the ground, and cast a spell that Rose had never heard of.

“ _Appare Vestigium,_ ” he said as he blew some sort of golden smoke from his wand. The smoke, that glittered, seemed to have the power to show what had happened in that same spot several hours prior.

“ _Wow_ ,” she breathed, amazed. Jacob didn’t say anything, but the awed look on his face said it all: he was mightily impressed as well.

Under the quizzical gazes of the many passers-by, the magizoologist then _Accioed_ Kit the Niffler, who jumped out of the suitcase along with a handful of coins. “Get looking,” the wizard said, and the creature indeed started sniffing the ground in search for…something.

Rose watched Newt hurrying to and fro, not knowing what she could do to help. She watched as the silhouette of a Kappa formed into the glittery smoke. Newt explained what it was before getting distracted by the shadow of a feminine figure. “Tina?” he asked, placing his wand in-between his teeth to chase the memory of her.

Rose stared at him, at that lost look he got when he realised that his crush wasn’t really there, and was struck once more by the juvenile look on his face. He was just like one of his adorable creatures, and she was overcome with the need to protect him, as she often had since she met him. Not being used to being the youngest child, she was assuming the role of elder sister again. And Newt was definitely acting like a younger child.

“She’s not here,” she muttered gently, but he’d moved on, staring at Kit who was sniffing the ground like a dog.

“What have you found?”

To Rose and Jacob’s astonishment, he then leaned down to lick the ground.

“Yeah, we’re licking the dirt now,” Jacob said, a bit miffed.

But Newt carried on ignoring both of them, and cast a _Revelio_ that showed another, huge form in the golden smoke. That of a giant, feline-like creature that Rose didn’t recognize, for once.

“Newt, what made those?” asked Jacob, still holding the Portkey bucket.

“That is a Zouwu,” Newt answered, making Rose look at him quizzically. “It’s a Chinese creature. They are incredibly fast and incredibly powerful. They can travel a thousand miles in a day and this one could take you to one side of Paris to the next in a single leap.”

Rose tore herself from the vision of the magnificent beast, and turned back to Kit who was rolling on the pavement excitedly. “Newt?” she called, and her ‘brother’ hurried to the Niffler.

“Oh, good boy!” He stood in front of what looked like imprints of shoes. “Jacob, Rose, she was here. Tina stood here. She has incredibly narrow feet, have you noticed?”

Rose chuckled, Jacob looked uncomfortable. “Can’t say that I have.”

Newt then turned again, facing the shadow of a darker-skinned wizard who’d stood nearby. “Someone came towards her.” The shadow faded, showing a single feather falling onto the ground. Newt went to pick it up at once and sniffed it. “ _Avensegium_ ,” he cast, and the feather flew steadily towards the end of the street.

Jacob leaned towards Rose. “I’d forgotten just how weird he was.”

She patted his arm. “Me too, and I live with him…” She smiled, and watched as their ginger wizard friend _Accioed_ Kit back into the suitcase. The Niffler didn’t look too happy about it, but didn’t have a choice.

“Follow that feather!” Newt told them, and Rose and Jacob hurried behind the flowing object. Newt ran past them, and called one last “Drop the bucket!” before they started chasing the mysterious feather back to its owner.

Rose didn’t have more time to stare at Paris’ magnificent architecture any more…

* * *

It was some time later, when it felt like they had crossed half of the city chasing that blasted feather, that it started raining. Jacob, as usual, was more concerned about getting some food in him, but Rose was honestly getting tired of running around without any results. She needed to find Tina, and Queenie, sooner rather than later.

She quickly summoned an umbrella as it started really pouring, when she heard it. “ _Jacob!_ ”

She faltered, turning towards where she thought the voice came. Jacob, and Newt, hadn’t seemingly heard a thing, and carried on talking and walking. “Have you heard that?” she still asked, or half-shouted.

Newt didn’t even look back. “Hurry up, Rose!” he said, but she heard the call again.

“ _Jacob!_ ” She knew it now. It was Queenie.

She turned to tell the boys about their friend being close, but they’d disappeared around the corner of the street, and a crowd of people was hurrying her way, bent on finding shelter.

She cursed her brother and his priorities, and went in search of her friend.

“Queenie!” she yelled, and thought she’d lost her when no one answered for a while.

Until… “ _Rosie!_ ”

Rose ignored the abhorred nickname and ran towards the voice, not caring if she bumped into Muggles on her way.

There, in the rain, looking lost and terrified, was Queenie.

And Rose ran to her and pulled her into her arms, where the blonde witch started crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi people! So, you would have (maybe) noticed that I upped the number of chapters for this story, from 36 to 44... The reason is simple: initially, I wanted to finish this on a open ending, that I could return to after the third Fantastic Beasts movie was out. Then I realised that it could be foreveeeeeer until we can watch that movie in cinemas, so I decided to sod it, and to imagine my own third movie, and what could happen. So, eight more chapters, and a real slowburn ending for Theseus and Rose. ;)


	28. In which Grindelwald uses his silver tongue

“Oh Queenie,” Rose said as she cradled her friend to her chest, caring little about the rain that poured onto them and soaked them to the bone, “I thought we’d lost you…”

“I couldn’t find Tina,” her friend sobbed. “And all these voices…these voices that don’t stop…” She squeezed Rose tighter. “Why don’t they _stop_?!” She’d yelled that last word, attracting some curious glances from those people walking by.

Rose held her tighter. “Listen to my voice, Queenie, not theirs. Only mine. Listen to what I’m telling you.” And she kept repeating in her mind ‘ _I’ve got you, I won’t let you go, you’re safe. We’ll find Tina together, and we’ll fix this. I’ve got you, you’re safe. You’re safe._ ’ until Queenie settled a bit, but kept crying.

A few seconds later, a tall, dark-clad woman with strikingly beautiful features tapped Queenie on the shoulder, prompting both witches to raise their gazes to the stranger. “ _Mesdames? Tout va bien, Mesdames?_ ” **_Are you alright?_**

Rose knew a bit of French, thanks to her mother’s meddling. “ _Tout va bien, merci._ ” **_Everything is fine, thank you._**

But the dark-haired witch kept staring at them intently. She switched to English, probably because of Rose’s appalling accent. “You look like you could use some warmth right now.” She straightened and gestured them to stand. Queenie did, eyes puffy still, but strangely affixed to this strange woman.

Rose stood too, but was far less trusting. “We are grateful for the help, but our friends will be looking for us.”

“Do you know where they are?” the stranger asked, voice mellow and eyes calculating.

Rose nodded. “I know where they were headed.”

“Then you do not really know where they are.” A smile, one of those predatory ones, formed on the woman’s lips. “Come with me, please. I’ll welcome you in my home until you are both dry and warmed up, and you can send a Patronus to your friends so they do not worry.”

Queenie, still dazed and staring, nodded almost absent-mindedly. “That’s nice. Isn’t it, Rosie?”

Rose almost scowled. But the stranger’s eyes went back to her, and the smile turned a bit more…pleased? “I assure you, I do not wish either of you harm.”

Queenie nodded again. “She’s telling the truth, you know,” she told Rose, and she leaned down to grab her umbrella and her own suitcase before following the dark-haired woman.

Rose cursed, but followed, her hand poised on her wand inside her jacket. Queenie was acting weirdly, but she wanted to know why…

* * *

The three women hurried down streets and paths that Rose couldn’t begin to remember, under a pouring rain that didn’t seem to affect either of her companions. Queenie was still walking in a state of dizziness, and their guide was putting a determination in her strides that Rose didn’t like one bit.

“I’m sorry,” she asked at long last, as they turned yet another corner, “what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” the dark-haired beauty answered with a small smile. “Would it help if I did?”

“Yes, it would, rather,” Rose countered, lips pursed.

The other woman looked pointedly at the hand that Rose still had buried in her jacket, holding her wand, as if showing that she knew that she was being held at wand-point, but didn’t care. “My name is Vinda.”

“And your last name?”

The dark-haired woman – Vinda, then – chuckled. “Now now. I know both your first names, as well, but not your lasts. Seems fair not to share mine in those circumstances, don’t you think?”

Rose’s mistrust didn’t falter, but it appeared that they had reached their destination.

It was a tall, city-house made of several storeys of apartments, in the Muggle side of Paris. The style was very 19th century, but Rose couldn’t pinpoint exactly where they were. She didn’t have time to cast a location spell, however, because Vinda opened the door, ushering both her and Queenie inside, and her blonde friend pulled her to shelter by the hand holding her wand.

The flat they were brought to was heavily decorated, with velvet-covered armchairs and sofas, many portraits – not moving, Rose noticed at once – and books. ‘Vinda’ led them to the sitting area and offered them tea. Queenie, without thinking, shed her coat and accepted the offer. Rose didn’t, but sat next to her friend anyway.

Her eyes darted from side to side. She was feeling more and more uncomfortable, without being entirely able to say why…

“This is a lovely place,” Queenie said conversationally, as the teapot hovered over her cup. She took a sip, a kind smile on her lips, as always.

Rose nodded. “Very nice. Very…Muggle-like.”

‘Vinda’ smiled again, looking more like a predator than ever before. “Thank you. I like their…accommodations.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. Unless she was being mistaken, this woman was implying that the house wasn’t hers, and that she had ‘merely’ taken it. But why? And where were the owners?

But their for-now host didn’t let her dwell on her suspicions, as she sat regally in the armchair facing them, holding her head high in the way only Purebloods tended to do. “I am so glad to have been of assistance to you, my dears. The weather truly was dreadful.”

And as on cue, Rose realised that it was no longer pouring outside. The sun had come back, as if the rain hadn’t been there at all. Another…suspicious thing…

Queenie seemed to get the memo, at last. Perhaps she’d overheard Rose’s thoughts, what with her Legilimency being a bit on edge that day, but she refused the refilling of tea and stood, followed by her friend. “Well, you’ve been very kind, but my sister Tina’s probably worried sick about me, knocking on all doors and so- I think we’d better be goin’.”

“But you haven’t met your host,” Vinda said, prompting Rose to bare her teeth, this time.

“Alright, what is going on? Who are you? Answer me!” She pointed her wand at the other witch, who merely kept on staring at her, not worried in the least.

“Are you married?” Queenie asked, as if oblivious to Rose’s anger and threat.

The other smirked. “Let’s say…deeply committed.”

Rose understood before Queenie said “You see, I can’t tell if you’re telling a joke or if you’re just…French.”

Vinda chuckled, and left the room, as if someone hadn’t been pointing a weapon at her face at all.

Queenie huffed, and went to sit back on the sofa. Rose turned to her, incredulous. “Queens, we have to leave. This woman…I think she’s with Grindelwald.”

Queenie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move. “ _Grindelwald?_ But, Rosie, she’s been so nice, she can’t be!”

“And yet…” a cold voice said at the door, and Rose whirled around, a shiver running up her spine as Gellert Grindelwald himself strode into the room, calmly…

* * *

Queenie jumped to her feet, this time, and drew out her wand.

“Don’t come any closer, Grindelwald,” Rose hissed.

He took two paces forward still, a smirk forming on his lips as his mismatched eyes settled onto her. “Miss Rose, you cannot begin to imagine how _happy_ I am to see you. I would have been content with just your Legilimens friend, but you…you, my dear, are a present far more precious to me.”

She hissed again. “You don’t seem to think I would jinx you where you stand, but I will, if you do not let me and Queenie go.”

“Now now, no need to be this drastic, my dear.” He smirked still, eyes glittering with mischief. “I remember that you and I had quite the…connection…when we met in New-York.” He paused, enjoying the look of pure hatred that she sent him then. “Tell me; is it true that you are to be thanked for dear Percival’s rescue? I was very impressed when I heard… But then again, I never doubted your talents…”

Queenie gasped behind Rose. “He…he knows, Rosie.”

Rose felt all colour leave her cheeks. “What do you know?” she asked, no, demanded of the Dark Wizard facing her then.

He chuckled. “Ah, but dear Newton does not have a sister, you see. Nor has anyone started… _existing_ quite the same way that you have. Dumbledore may have forged you a little life, but we both know that the Rose who is standing in this very room wasn’t born in 1905, was she?”

Another shiver of pure dread. “I…I don’t understand what you mean…”

He took another step forward, until he was only a few inches from touching the end of her wand to his chest. “Miss Rose, please, do not pretend to be stupid. You would do yourself a great disservice… Imagine, now, what we could achieve, together, you and I. We could shape the world in a way that what you knew would change for the better. We could change the _future_ …”

Queenie came to stand by Rose, this time. “He wants to _use_ you, Rosie. He wants what you know.”

Grindelwald’s smirk faltered for a second. “I don’t want to _use_ you, Miss Rose. I want to work _alongside_ you, to make this world a better place.”

She narrowed her eyes again. “For the Greater Good?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, Miss Rose, for the Greater Good.”

She sighed with a dark chuckle. “Ah, but you see, Mister Grindelwald, I’ve read about many other wizards who claimed to want to make the world a better place. And they all lied. And they all hurt people I love. So, you can kindly shove your proposal… _up your arse_!”

She pushed Queenie out of the way as she cast a Protego Maxima around them both and tried to jinx Grindelwald at the same time. With a wave of his hand, her curse rebounded off him, and a tired expression appeared on his face.

“Alas, if you do not want to join me, Miss Rose, I cannot possibly let you live.” He then took his wand out of his sleeve so quickly that she didn’t see it, and the curse that touched her Shield was so powerful that it blasted it and part of the sitting-room with it.

Rose yelped in surprise, but cast another Shield at once, grabbed Queenie’s hand, and Disapparated.

When they reappeared in the same spot as when she’d taken the Portkey with Newt and Jacob, Rose was panting, and Queenie was wide-eyed, visibly shaken and afraid.

“Queens?” she asked, and the blonde turned to her.

“He was thinking…he was thinking…” she faltered, and drew Rose into a hug.

For a long moment, they tried to calm down, embracing in a side-street of Muggle Paris…

* * *

When the adrenaline had left their body, both women entangled from one another, and started walking through Montmartre, aimlessly enough. After all, Rose didn’t have any Muggle money, and she didn’t think it safe to cross into Wizarding Paris yet.

After a while, they both settled on a bench in a small park, and Rose silently cast a Muffliato so that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I’m sorry, Queenie,” she said immediately. “I can’t imagine what you’ve seen in his head…”

Queenie shuddered. “It was horrible. He was thinking about wars, about…weapons. About destruction. And you. In the middle of it, in black clothes, standing next to him, looking as crazy as he is… He wanted you as a trophy.”

“He wanted me because he knows I know how this ends for him…” Rose pursed her lips and watched several Muggles pass by with a glare in her eye.

“So it does end?” Queenie asked in a small voice.

Rose took her hand. “It does. Dumbledore sees to it.” She knew that Queenie already knew far too much about her, about her future, and that she had to stop giving her more information. After all, with what she’d seen of Rose’s thoughts, she already knew what the next century looked like, and that was…some kind of anachronism!

“I’m glad,” the blonde answered, before another sob shook through her, surprising her friend. “I’ve been so stupid with Jacob! I should never have bewitched him, I’m such an idiot! A cruel, selfish idiot!” She leaned down to cry in her hands, and Rose placed hers on her back to soothe her.

“Queens, don’t beat yourself up.” She sighed. She couldn’t say she understood her friend’s point of view: she had grown up in a world where Muggles and Magical folk could marry, and did, often enough. One of her father’s closest friends, Seamus Finnegan, was the son of a Muggle man and a Witch, after all… But she couldn’t let Queenie feel miserable either… “Jacob has come to Paris to find you, you know.”

The blonde sniffed, but raised her puffy eyes to her nonetheless. “He has?”

“Yes, he has. He loves you more than he is angry.” Rose smiled. “And I’m sure that he’ll understand why you did it.”

“If only we could… But MACUSA…”

“MACUSA is behind on many laws, and it’s unfortunately the same for its Muggle counterpart…” Rose gritted her teeth, unwilling to go into details as to why the US of A was such a joke of a democracy even a century later. “Maybe he’ll agree to stay in the UK, you never know. But not right now,” she added after Queenie sent her a hopeful glance, “it’s still too fresh. Let him think by himself. After all, Brooklyn’s been his home all his life. Leaving your home is never easy.” She smiled a bit.

Queenie sniffed again, and took a handkerchief from her coat’s jacket before dabbing at her eyes and making herself more presentable again. “What do we do, now, Rosie?”

Rose stopped minding about the nickname. After all, Theseus had started to call her that too, and the memory of Ron Weasley wasn’t so painful nowadays…

She sighed. “We have to find Newt. He’ll have found Tina by now…” She looked around, but no one suspicious was visible. “We can cross into Wizarding Paris. With any chance, he’ll have done some….Newt things that would help us locate him.”

Queenie had a little chuckle. “Knowing him and Jacob, they wouldn’t have been discreet…”

Rose chuckled back, thinking about Newt licking the pavement earlier that day. “No, they definitely wouldn’t have been…”

* * *

They had found the ballerina’s statue without issue, and had crossed back into their world; mindful of the people they crossed and if any resembled that blasted ‘Vinda’.

Queenie, her Legilimency back under control, scanned suspicious-looking people regularly, and nodded at Rose when there was no trouble.

Rose would have cursed her choice of clothes for this incongruous trip to Paris. The fact that she wore trousers instead of a dress, and that she wasn’t wearing any robes attracted the curious glances of many wizards and witches who, apparently, thought she was a man at first glance then were shocked to see her feminine face. Queenie bristled at that more than once.

“You’d think there is something worse goin’ on in the world than a woman wearing pants…”

Rose chuckled.

They tried to retrace Newt’s steps earlier, when they had been following that feather, but when they reached a large avenue flanked with shops, they froze, as did most of the passers-by.

A large, black, veil-like thing was gliding on the buildings’ façades, making people gasp and others flee. Rose and Queenie exchanged a look, and the red-head nodded at her friend who focused on the thoughts of those around them. Her blue eyes widened, and she turned back to Rose.

“It’s Grindelwald. He’s calling his followers.”

Rose gritted her teeth again. “Queenie, do you think we ought to go?” The blonde seemed at a loss. “The Ministries, they’re bound to send someone at a rally like this. Maybe…maybe Tina will be there.”

“You’re right, Rosie. And if Tina is there, Newt will be. And if Newt is-”

“Jacob will be too.” Rose nodded, but still remained back from the veil that glided past them. “It might be dangerous.”

Queenie nodded back, jaw set. “We’re not helpless.”

“No, we’re not.” Rose got closer to the cloth, and the drawing of a raven appeared, clearer as she got closer still, until it shone bright through the veil. She turned to Queenie, nodded again, held her wand high, and touched the eagle.

She passed through the cloth as if it’d been water, and emerged in…a cemetery.

* * *

Queenie followed her almost immediately, and both women ran to a side-alley away from anyone who’d follow to rally Grindelwald’s ranks with more…ingenuity.

Rose looked around, trying to figure out why this place looked familiar – apart from the fact that most cemeteries looked the same – and cast a location spell.

“We’re at the Père Lachaise,” she whispered a second later. “I came here with my family when I visited Paris.” Under Queenie’s incredulous gaze, she added “A lot of Muggle and Magical celebrities are buried here.” The blonde didn’t seem to understand why that made the place a tourist attraction, and Rose couldn’t blame her.

When they finally glanced up at the archway they had appeared under, they both gasped.

There, in elegant medieval lettering, was written-

“Lestrange?!” Rose muttered. “Leta!”

Queenie turned to her. “You think this is her family’s vault?”

“It must be… But why would Grindelwald hold a rally here of all places? What does he want with her?” Her anger towards the manipulative Dark Wizard rose again, this time in regards to her newest friend. If Grindelwald wanted something with Leta, she was ready to stop him by any means necessary.

Queenie visibly caught the passing thought. “You might not have to,” she said, answering Rose’s thoughts, “this could be a coincidence.”

“Somehow, Queens, I doubt it.” She turned to her friend more frankly, this time. “Do you know human Transfiguration? I’m not good at it but, the moment I step inside that vault, he’ll seek me out.”

The blonde’s face turned into a mask of gravity, and she nodded. “He is quite obsessed with you.” She raised her wand. “Into a man?”

Rose grunted. “Given what I’m wearing, do your worst.”

Queenie bit her lip as she cast the various spells that modified Rose’s features, and the red-head grimaced when she felt it. Her friend shrunk her hair first, giving it a pale blonde colour that almost matched Scorpius’ back home; gave her a rounder face and a more crooked nose, thinned her lips and turned her eyes green. Then, Rose felt the wrinkles.

She now looked like a fifty-something man.

And grunted, her voice still quite feminine. “I hate this.”

Queenie tilted her head to the side. “You know, you’re not that ugly.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Queens,” then winced at the sound of her voice. “Alright, let’s switch to silent speech, okay?” Queenie didn’t seem to understand for a second. “Listen to my thoughts. I can’t speak out loud.”

“Oh,” her friend said, surprised. “Do you really want me inside your head, Rosie?”

Rose smiled, even though she knew the sight must have been horrendous with that new face. “I trust you.” She squeezed Queenie’s hand, took a deep breath, and thought “ _Let’s go._ ”


	29. In which Rose loses a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update, my Internet chose to break over the weekend, like a bitch. XD So, to apologize fully, here come three chapters for you peeps. Things are starting to get dark. :/

Newly Transfigured, and with the sun that set steadily under the horizon, Rose – and Queenie – slowly made their way to the Lestranges’ vault. Several people had arrived too, using a door over which sat the same raven as before. They both moved to follow, but Queenie pulled on Rose’s sleeve to show her movement on their left, and the young witch followed her friend’s lead.

She saw a tall, dark-haired woman of great beauty, wearing a flimsy blue dress and holding the hand of a young man walking in front of her. When he tilted his head before entering the vault, Rose recognized him.

“Queenie, that’s Credence!” she hissed.

The blonde nodded and raised her wand. “Let’s follow him.”

They did.

Inside, it looked like any other vault. Effigies sat on walls over stone caskets, and many sculptures decorated the mausoleum. Credence had stepped inside, followed by his female friend; but neither witch focused on him when they saw who else was there, surprised to see the Obscurial too, by the looks of it.

“Jacob!”

At the sound of Queenie’s voice, the lovely baker whipped around, and a wide smile split his face before she reached him and buried her head in her neck, whispering sweet nothings and many apologies.

Rose stared at them with a fond look on her male face, and kept her wand down as Credence and his companion stared at her, frightened.

“We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.” Credence started upon hearing her voice, feminine in that fake body, and he stepped in front of his friend protectively.

“Then why are you wearing a fake face?”

She sighed. “For the same reason as you: Grindelwald is looking for me.” She pointed her wand at her face, closed her eyes and winced before uttering ‘ _Finite_ ’. She felt her features morph back into her usual ones, and Queenie’s sigh from the other side of the room.

“I spent so much time on your face, Rosie…”

But Credence’s dark eyes had widened in recognition. “I know you. You were in New-York!” He took a step back, and she raised her hands to calm him.

“I was, I was. I was with Tina, the brown-haired woman who helped you once, remember her? And my brother, he duelled against Grindelwald to help you too…”

* * *

Credence seemed unsure, but before he could decide whether to trust her or not, someone else entered the vault. A dark-skinned wizard raised his wand immediately, not letting Rose or Queenie time to realise what was happening before he _Disarmed_ them both. Their wands flew to his free hand, but he then pointed his own at Credence.

The woman stepped in front of him, this time, and the wizard snarled at her, almost. “Out of the way! If I must kill you as well as Corvus, I shall!”

Rose stepped forward as well, trying to round this would-be murderer up. “Wait a second-”

But the man wouldn’t see sense. He had the crazed look of someone desperate, but she needed to know why he was, why he was calling Credence this strange name, and why he wanted him dead.

The boy had met enough people who wanted to kill him for his entire lifetime, in her opinion…

When she’d almost succeeded in walking in front of him, though, another figure emerged from the shadows. Rose gasped when she saw Leta, clad in one of her exquisite velvet gowns, hair in disarray, wand raised and pointed at the man’s back. “ _Stop._ ”

“Leta,” Rose whispered, but her breath caught when she saw who followed her in. Tina was dressed in her black Auror garb; and Newt was looking far too pleased for someone in this situation. “ _Newt_ ,” was the relieved whisper that followed. However, the wizard didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence, which kind of irritated her until she realised that what was happening was rather important.

The man turned to the interruption, and Leta recognized him, for she said “Yusuf…”

“Is that really you?” the man answered, looking awestruck. “My little sister…”

They walked towards each other, pain in their eyes instead of elation at having found each other. Rose didn’t understand. Leta was an only child, that’s what she’d always been told… Then why was this man calling her ‘little sister’?

Credence seemed to be more bent on going straight to the point, as he crept forward. “If he’s your brother, who am I?” he asked in a deep, tense voice.

“I don’t know,” Leta answered.

“I’m tired of living with no name, no history. Just tell me my story, then you can end it.”

Yusuf turned back to him. “Your story is our story. Our story,” he emphasized, looking back at Leta.

“No, Yusuf,” she said, looking and sounded exhausted both physically and emotionally. Rose longed to take her in her arms, in the absence of Theseus. She’d come to care so much for the petite witch, it was hard to see her so…depressed.

But Yusuf didn’t hear her and brought them to another part of the vault, to start his story. “My father was Mustafa Kama, Pureblood of Senegalese descent and most accomplished. My mother, Laurena, was equally high-bred, and noted beauty. They were deeply in love.” He seemed lost in his thoughts, which prompted Rose to move closer to Leta, who didn’t seek her out but looked at her with a small, grateful glint in her eyes, soon swallowed by a wave of pain that hurt her friend deeply. “They knew a man, a famous man from a French Pureblood family. He desired her. Lestrange used the Imperius Curse to seduce and abduct her. I tried to prevent it, but he attacked me. It was the last time I ever saw her. She died giving birth to a little girl.”

Several eyes went to Leta who tensed. Rose couldn’t bear it any longer, and reached for her left hand. To her surprise, Leta clutched it hard.

“You,” Yusuf said, although all had understood what he’d meant. “News of her death drove my father…insane. With his dying breath, my father charged me to seek revenge. Kill the person Lestrange loves best in the world. I thought at first it’d be easy. He had only one close relative. You,” he moved closer to Leta who squeezed Rose’s hand almost painfully, now. “But-”

Leta’s eyes were pain, and nothing else. “Say it,” she ordered.

“He never loved you,” Yusuf said. “He remarried not three months after her death. He loved her no more than he had loved you. But then, his son, Corvus, was born at last, and that man, who had never known love, was filled with it. All he cared about, was little Corvus.”

* * *

Credence’s eyes darkened as he looked at Leta. “So this is the truth? I am Corvus Lestrange?”

“Yes,” said Yusuf.

“ _No!_ ” yelled Leta at the same time. She released Rose’s hand to walk forward.

“ _Yes!_ ” repeated Yusuf.

“ _No!_ ” yelled Leta again. She started pacing; mind visibly troubled more than could be put into words. This time, she pushed Rose away when she tried to provide comfort.

“Realising that Mustafa Kama’s son had sworn revenge, your father sought to hide you where I couldn’t find you. He confided you to his servant, who boarded a ship for America.”

“He _did_ send all of us to America,” sobbed Leta, “but-”

Yusuf interrupted her. “His servant, Irma Dugard, was a Half-Elf. Her magic was weak, and therefore left no trace I could follow. I’d only just discovered how you had escaped when I received news I’d never expected. The ship had gone down at sea. But you survived, didn’t you? Somehow, someone had pulled you from the water.” Yusuf’s voice was now as crazed as before, and he started reciting some text Rose had never heard before. “’The son cruelly banished, despair of the daughter, return great avenger, with wings, from the water.’ There,” he pointed at Leta, “stands the despairing daughter, you,” at Credence, “are the winged raven pulled from the water, and I, I’m the avenger of my family’s ruin. I pity you, Corvus, but you must die.”

Leta had had enough, and broke down in shouting “Corvus Lestrange is already dead, I killed him!” Everyone stared at her, shocked, even as she cast an ‘ _Accio_ ’ and a heavy box fell from one of the shelves, planting itself on the floor.

Everyone approached it, and Rose walked to Yusuf first, tearing her and Queenie’s wand from his hand. He looked at her for a second, but refocused on his half-sister immediately after.

When the box opened, it revealed something that looked very similar to the House of Black’s family tree that Rose had seen so many times at Grimmauld Place. But instead of taking the best part of three walls, this one grew, as a seedling of a real tree.

Leta knelt before it as it expanded. “My father owned a very strange family tree. It only recorded the men.” And they all saw that it was true, for only male figures appeared alongside flowers that bloomed then withered. “The women in my family were recorded as flowers. Beautiful. Separate.” At the top of the tree had appeared an infant’s likeness. ‘Corvus Lestrange’, it read, and a bloom grew next to it, closer and closer still. “My father sent me to America with Corvus. Irma was to pose as a grandmother with two grand-children. Corvus never stopped crying.” She paused, tears gathering in her eyes again. “I never wanted to hurt him. I only wanted to be free of him, just for a moment.”

Rose’s eyes widened when she understood. Queenie did as well, for her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

“Just a single moment,” Leta carried on, tears now falling freely on her cheeks. The blossom tightened around Corvus’ image, and it burnt, peeling off as the story ended. Leta rose to her feet, lost in the moment and the memories.

Newt, behind her, softly said “You didn’t mean to do it, Leta. So it wasn’t your fault.”

She softly shook her head as well, and turned to him. “Newt… You never met a monster you couldn’t love.”

Tina then asked “Leta? Do you know who Credence really is? Did you know, when you swapped?”

Leta shook her head. “No.” That visibly displeased the boy greatly, but there wasn’t anything to do for it.

They were all disturbed by the sound of stone moving, and a door opened at the back of the room. Without a word, Credence and his friend approached it, as a means to escape the situation, Rose surmised.

* * *

She reached Leta as soon as the others were distracted. “Leta,” she whispered, “will you be alright?”

The dark-haired witch smiled sadly at her, taking her hand and holding it tight. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.” She looked at the door through which their companions were now going. “Theseus is here. We have to find him.”

Rose nodded, but remained where she was again. “When all this is over, it’s my turn to tell you my secret.”

Leta chuckled darkly. “Oh, Rose… What secret do you hold that could compare with my being a murderer?”

Rose huffed. “You are _not_ a murderer. And you cannot use the same argument as you did with Newt: I do _not_ appreciate monsters all that much.” Leta’s eyes glistened with more unshed tears. “You are my friend, and I would not become friend with a bad person.” She smiled encouragingly. “Come on, let’s find my brothers and get out of here.”

But Leta pulled her back, making Rose look down at her in surprise. “Rose, if anything happens…” She didn’t let the red-head counter. “If anything happens…take care of them for me. _Both_ of them.” The intensity of her gaze held some kind of message that Rose wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

After a moment of silence, of puzzlement and of staring, Leta drew out her wand and summoned a small vial before she approached the tip of her wand to her temple, and pulled out a memory.

Rose gasped when she saw the silvery wisp.

Leta put it in the vial and corked it before handing it to Rose. “Just in case.” She smiled, and went towards the door, finally ready to go join the others.

Rose followed, gripping the vial tight before placing it in her breast-pocket.

* * *

They erupted in a huge circular room which original purpose was unsure but that was currently filled to the brim with people. All around, stands, stairs, and in the middle, a large centre-like stage, waiting for the host of the rally, Grindelwald himself.

Rose and Leta entered the room and assessed the immense number of attendees before looking left and right to locate their friends. She saw Queenie and Jacob, stuck in the middle of a group of stern-looking witches; and Tina as she paced the gallery towards them.

When she reached them, she leaned in. “It’s a trap.”

Rose pursed her lips, nodding as she held her head down. “Undoubtedly. He wanted us here.” Tina looked at her quizzically. “Credence and I. Remember his little obsession when I was in America?” The Auror nodded. “It’s hasn’t changed much.”

Tina cursed under her breath. “You should have disguised yourself!”

“I did, when we first came in, but then Credence got suspicious and I dropped the enchantment.”

Tina shot her a severe look. “Don’t attract his attention. And don’t seek out Newt. He’s bound to get seen.” With a pointed stare, she walked away.

Leta took Rose’s hand and squeezed. “Grindelwald wants you?” Rose nodded grimly. “Why?”

She turned to her friend, staring hard at her. “He wants what I know. About what will happen to him and his cause.”

Leta stared blankly for a moment, then a shocked expression settled on her face and she squeezed Rose’s hand harder. “So…I was right!” She huffed, turning back to the buzzing room. “And Theseus told me I was being silly.”

Rose snorted. “Theseus needs to stop being such an overprotective mother-hen, sometimes.”

Leta sighed. “Well said.”

They stood there, holding hands, lips pursed and eyes fleeting over the crowd to find the Scamander brothers. Hopefully before Grindelwald showed his face.

* * *

They had no such luck. The buzzing of conversation faded as a pale-haired, mismatched-eyed figure entered the room, and suddenly, the crowd started applauding and cheering. Rose felt anger rise in her amidst the ‘Le voilà!’, ‘Grindelwald, bravo!’ and other ‘Incroyable, Grindelwald!’. She was overcome with the need to get down those stairs, and kill him.

Perhaps that was what her parents and Uncle had felt each day of the war against Voldemort…

“My brothers!” Grindelwald started when the applause had died down. “My sisters. My friends. The great gift of your applause is not for me, no. It is for yourselves. You came today because of a craving, and a knowledge that the old ways serve us no longer. You came today because you crave something new, something different. It is said that I hate ‘les Non-Magiques’, the Muggles, the No-Majs, the Can’t-Spells.”

A clamour rose around the room, insulting the community of Non-Magiques, as Grindelwald had called them. Rose seethed, her free hand gripping her wand hard enough to snap it in two.

“I do not hate them! I do not. For I do not fight out of hatred. I say the Muggles are not lesser, but other. Not worthless, but of other value. Not disposable, but of a different disposition. Magic blooms only in rare souls. It is granted to those who defy things. Oh, what a world we would make, for all of Humanity, we who live for freedom, for truth, and for love.”

His speech was swaying many in the assistance, Rose could see, could feel the sense of allegiance that was spreading through the ranks of these French Purebloods. She couldn’t fathom why they would listen to the silver-tongue of this man, to his false promises and words, when it was obvious that what he wanted was to effectively commit genocide.

She knew what he’d done. Or rather, what he’ll do. She knew how this evolved, how it ended. She knew that, after him, another, more radical even, wizard, rose from the ashes of his beliefs to murder more innocent people Grindelwald could have dreamt of. She took a pace forward, as if to reach the stage and speak, shake sense into these people.

Leta held her back.

“The moment has come to share my vision of the future,” Grindelwald continued. “A future that waits if we do not rise up and take our rightful place in the world.” A female figure walked to him, and Rose gritted her teeth when she recognized that ‘Vinda’ woman. She handed him what looked like a hookah shaped like a skull.

Grindelwald breathed in deeply, then released the smoke that shaped itself into images that Rose recognized immediately.

She faltered, and Leta looked at her sharply. “ _Impossible,_ ” she breathed, watching as the smoke showed a line of Jews heading for Auschwitz, then the horror of the atomic bomb. “How could he know? _How could he possibly know?_ ”

She felt another panic attack rise, one that Leta would be unable to stop just by holding her hand. Grindelwald’s next words were muffled by the noise of her own heartbeats speeding up, and her breaths became shallow and she clutched at her chest.

Leta pulled her so she faced her, and stared into her eyes, hard. “You’re in a forest. You are walking alongside a stream, and birds are chirping above you. You look up, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You bend down, and pick up a flower. You feel peaceful, and happy.” She kept muttering the same things over and over, and Rose calmed down.

Theseus. He’d used the same imagery when he’d saved her from the Ministry. Had he gotten it from Leta? How many times had she had to pull him from one of _his_ panic attacks?

Rose’s breath settled, and she nodded at Leta in thanks, releasing her shirt and turning back to the gathering. Leta didn’t let go of her hand, though.

* * *

A clamour had risen around them, now, as Grindelwald announced “There are Aurors here among us.”

Rose’s eyes darted from side to side, and she caught sight of Theseus. She heard Leta’s sharp intake of breath, meaning she’d seen him too. The wave of relief that the red-head felt upon seeing him was soon shoved aside by an immense gush of fear, though. What if Grindelwald used Theseus and Newt to get to her? What if he saw either of them, and hurt them to draw her out?

Again, she made to step forward, and again, Leta pulled her back.

“He’ll be alright,” she whispered. Rose wished she felt as confident about it…

“Come closer, brother wizards, join us,” Grindelwald taunted, and to Rose’s astonishment, Aurors started slowly climbing down the stairs, posting themselves in-between ranks of visibly angered witches and wizards. Their wands were drawn, and she immediately thought it would be seen as a threat.

Grindelwald sure knew how to start a fire…

“They have killed many of my followers, that is true,” he continued, as more and more people drew out their wands too. “They have sequestered me, and tortured me in New-York. They struck down their fellow witches and wizards, for the simple crime of seeking the truth, for wanting freedom. Your anger, your desire for revenge is natural.”

And his words, spun with uncommon intelligence, prompted a witch to point her wand at a passing Auror who, nervous and frightened, no doubt, cast the Killing Curse.

* * *

“No!” Grindelwald shouted as all around the scene moved on to the Auror. Leta released Rose’s hand to grip her wand tighter, and the red-head did the same, nodding before she moved slightly to the left, wishing to get closer to the action, and her brothers.

Grindelwald ascended the stairs towards the fallen witch, and people moved back in respect. “Take this young warrior back to her family,” he uttered in fake pain after kneeling next to the body. “Disapparate. Leave. Go forth from this place and spread the word. It is not we who are violent.”

All around, spectators started leaving, more and more, clearing the path, and the view, to Grindelwald.

Soon, only the Aurors, Newt’s party and Credence and his friends were left, among a small group of Grindelwald’s core followers.

Rose stood facing him, wand held high, glaring at him. The mismatched eyes met hers, and a nasty smirk appeared on his lips. “Miss Rose. I thought I’d felt you near. Have you enjoyed the show?”

She ran a couple of steps down, thinking she heard her name being called but ignoring it. “How do you know? How could you have shown these things?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Join me, and I will tell you. Join me, Miss Rose, and none of that will ever happen.”

Tears stung in her eyes as she remembered seeing the horrors of the extermination camps. “You will not stop it from happening. You’ll make it happen quicker.” She knew her History. Grindelwald’s meddling had helped Hitler, in a way she didn’t know, to rise to power and commit his atrocities.

Still, the wizard smiled. “Join me, Miss Rose, and I promise you that none of what you’ve known will come to pass. Join me, and together, we can make this world a better place for you and your family.” She knew he wasn’t talking about Newt and Theseus.

But still she shook her head. “Over my dead body.” She cast a spell at him, aware that he would block it, but willing to send the message through.

He got it, shielded himself and snarled. “So be it.” Then he whirled around, conjuring a circle of bright blue flames that Rose moved away from as someone called her name once more.

She dimly recognized Tina’s voice.

Vinda, Abernathy and several others from the core group crossed the flames as if they weren’t there before Disapparating. Another man tried, but disintegrated in horrifying yells of pain.

Grindelwald turned to the remaining people present. “Aurors! Join me in this circle. Pledge to me your eternal allegiance, or die. Only here shall you know freedom. Only here shall you know yourself.”

A tongue of flames crept up the stairs at that, and Rose watched, petrified, as it burnt and killed three people on its way.

“Play by the rules! No cheating, children!”

To Rose’s shock, Credence then stepped forward, but his friend remained back, terrified out of her wits. Newt called for him, but was stopped by another tongue of fire that he thankfully shielded himself from. Credence crossed the flames, and Grindelwald embraced him.

Rose seethed, and watched as Queenie got Jacob back up the stairs and to relative safety. She searched for Tina, found her; then saw Theseus had gotten closer to his brother.

“Mr Scamander!” Grindelwald’s voice resounded. “Do you think Dumbledore will mourn for you?” There was little doubt as to which Scamander he was referring to, but both brothers stared at the Dark Wizard with equal angry looks on their faces.

The fire kept creeping, and taking more and more Aurors with it.

Rose ran up the stairs and towards her brothers, blasting shields on her way to try and reach them quicker. The fire seemed bent on killing her and them, lashing out more and more violently, forcing her to focus her entire being and power into forcing it away from her.

She groaned under the effort, and almost didn’t notice the velvet-clad figure that stepped in front of her.

“Grindelwald, _stop_!”

The fire receded at that, and the Dark Wizard turned to where Leta stood, calmly climbing down the stairs in front of Rose, who sat, petrified, on the floor, heart beating too fast and fear taking hold of her muscles.

To their right, Theseus then Newt tried to reach their lover and friend, but the fire stopped them, and Leta continued her walk, looking almost unperturbed.

“This one I believe I know,” Grindelwald said in a sugary voice. “Leta Lestrange.” He crossed the fire to reach her on the other side of the circle. “Despised entirely among wizards, unloved, mistreated, yet brave…so very brave.” He slowly outstretched a hand to her. “Time to come home.”

Rose managed to rise to her feet, horrified, once again.

Leta took the offered hand, but didn’t let him pull her towards the flames.

Instead, she called, not turning, “Rose, remember your promise.”

Rose, immediately knowing what this meant, stumbled on her two feet. “ _No_ , Leta, don’t!” But another tongue of flames stopped her from reaching her friend.

Leta turned to the brothers, and said “I love you” before casting a curse at Grindelwald’s back.

Unsurprisingly, he stopped it. She cast another one, this time at ‘Vinda’, who dropped the hookah and Disapparated. The hookah broke, more fire swirling around in the room.

Rose sprang to action, as did Theseus, and yelled as she battled the fire to try and reach Leta in time.

She couldn’t.

With a flick of his wand – the Elder Wand – Grindelwald killed Leta Lestrange.

With a yell of anguish, Rose Disapparated back outside just as the fire was about to reach and kill her too…


	30. In which Paris is saved and a family mourns

Rose stumbled a few paces, trying to catch her breath as a huge weight settled on her chest and tears started falling down her cheeks.

Knowing someone had died was something. Being there to accompany patients when they drew their last breath was something too. But witnessing someone in the prime of their years being murdered, someone she cared about, no less? Rose felt like she’d been split in two.

Grindelwald’s curse didn’t let her properly mourn Leta, though, at least not so soon. The blue flames followed them as she and her friends Apparated outside at various points around the mausoleum, and they had to move out of the way several times. This time, no Shield was truly effective.

She spotted Queenie pulling Jacob into an alcove, and Yusuf protecting Credence’s lady friend nearby. Tina was standing flush against a wall, and the Scamander brothers-

Theseus had just managed to pull Newt to safety when a gush of blue flames passed right where the magizoologist had been a second prior. A strong wave of protectiveness took over Rose at that, and she felt her guts tell her to stand straight and to go to them. To protect them. Her family.

The thought would make her pause any other time. But not then.

She had not walked two paces when an arm pulled her to the side, saving her from another gush of bright flames. She looked to the side, meeting Tina’s gaze, and nodded her thanks.

“It won’t stop!” the Auror called, pointing at the skies, where Grindelwald’s spell had now swirled and formed the silhouette of a dragon. It swooped down again, but Tina cast a Shield that repelled it long enough for her to pull Rose to safety once more.

Yusuf yelled “We have to get out of here!” and all of them gravitated towards a flight of stairs leading out of the Lestranges’ vault and back into the cemetery.

Behind them, the flames grew stronger still, destroying graves and pillars and statues on their way.

In front of them, the frail figure of a man clad in beige robes appeared. Rose stared at him blankly. She knew she had never seen this man before, nor could she put a name to his face, but his presence made her suddenly feel very safe…

He stood, staring in horror at the blue flames that ravaged the Père Lachaise, and looked around at the witches and wizards that had come up to surround him.

“Together, in a circle, your wand into the earth! Or all Paris will be destroyed!”

Queenie shared a glance with her sister, and both Disapparated to somewhere in the vicinity. Rose looked worriedly at Theseus, but he followed Newt, leaving her with Yusuf.

“ _Now_ , Miss Scamander!” the mysterious old sorcerer said, and she whirled around, Disapparating as well.

As soon as she’d reappeared alongside Kama, they raised their wand and shouted in unison. “ _Finite!_ ” before plunging it into the ground below. A strong pulse of golden magic erupted from their wands and into the earth, forming a barrier against which the blue dragon crashed again, and again.

To their left, Rose heard Newt and Theseus doing the same. Her eyes tried to catch sight of them, but she couldn’t see them in the darkness that illuminated only the curse that was still trying to destroy everything in its path.

Contained by the barrier, the flames broke into three smaller dragon-like silhouettes, and each magical being had to pull their wand free to force it back. Rose used her pain and focused it on the curse, imagining it was Grindelwald himself.

Finally, when one last barrier was erected, the dragon receded, roaring as if in pain until it was sucked back from whence it had come, the Lestranges’ vault.

* * *

A deafening silence fell above the place, and Rose stood straighter, feeling exhausted in ways she hadn’t believed possible before.

Ignoring Yusuf altogether, she caught sight of Newt’s bright yellow scarf, and Disapparated to him.

Newt had brought Theseus into a hug, and was holding him tighter than Rose had ever seen him hold someone since she’d met him. Even without seeing his face, she knew Theseus was crying. His shoulders shook, and she felt her heart break for him once again.

Leta…

As her two brothers embraced and exchanged words she couldn’t hear, Rose fell to her knees, the tension from the day proving too much for her at long last. She started weeping uncontrollably, her hands trembling. Grindelwald and his proposition. The images of the Muggle War. Leta’s death. The Fiendfyre.

“Rose…” a soft voice called her after a moment. She was still weeping, but she felt someone drew her into their arms. The scent of fresh straw and Niffler caught her nose, and she understood it was Newt. She held him tight, still crying, as he said “I thought I’d lost you. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, trying to rein in her emotions and slowly standing, still holding him fast. “He…he could have killed you too…”

Newt sighed, but didn’t answer.

When she felt strong enough, she let him go, and turned to Theseus. He was watching them, eyes still puffy, tear-tracks on his cheeks. She took a few paces forward, but didn’t dare hugging him too: her heart was not to be trusted, and he had just lost the woman he loved. Instead, she outstretched a hand and he took it gingerly. “I’m so sorry, Theo.”

His eyes twitched when she used the nickname usually reserved to Newt, but he nodded without a word.

A moment later, Tina and Queenie had joined them, Jacob on tow, and both witches engulfed Rose in a hug that lasted a long long while… One that was only interrupted by Kit the Niffler’s appearance. He was injured, but had managed something quite extraordinary.

All those in attendance made noises of surprise when they saw the tiny pendant that the creature held in its grasp. Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s blood-pact, Rose would learn soon after. And something that would definitely tilt the balance in favour of the Dark Wizard’s fall…

* * *

All of them, Credence’s friend and Kama in tow, reported to the French Ministry soon after. Although it was still technically the middle of the night, there were quite the numbers of Aurors in the Atrium when they arrived. Nobody cared to look around to gawk at the architecture, and waited until the old wizard – who Rose had been astonished to learn was the famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel – had explained, in French and in substance, what had just occurred.

Theseus’ boss, Mr Travers, appeared soon after with a dozen of men, a dark look on his face as he hurried to his subordinate’s side.

“Is it true?” he asked in his Scottish lilt. “Is Miss Lestrange-?“ He didn’t finish, and Theseus could only nod, nothing more. Travers sighed. “My condolences. She was a remarkable witch.” He looked back at Flamel. “What happened? Who are you?”

Rose didn’t pay much attention as their ‘saviour’ recounted what he’d just told the Ministry’s secretary, and reached for Queenie’s hand. The blonde, who was holding fast to Jacob on her other side, looked at her, and seemed to understand what she was asking.

“ _I want him dead, Queenie. I want him dead sooner than he is supposed to be._ ”

Queenie squeezed her hand, signifying she’d heard her thoughts, but didn’t answer. Close by, they saw Tina gingerly reaching for Newt’s hand herself. To Rose’s surprise, he flinched away, but Tina didn’t seem offended by it.

At long last, Travers turned from Flamel back to the rest of the group. With a deep sigh, he said “I apologize for what you have had to go through tonight. None of us would have imagined Grindelwald would have gone this far. I would tell you to try and get some rest, but I know all-too-well that it would be wishful thinking.” He glanced at Theseus as he said that, clocking the tense and pained posture of his Auror. “I’ll arrange Portkeys to take us to Hogwarts tomorrow morning. We need to see Dumbledore.” He nodded at his men, who walked away in various directions.

Travers looked at each member of the group individually, stopping on Yusuf, then on Credence’s friend, whose name they still didn’t know. He walked to her. She was hugging herself, although in shock or cold, no one could have guessed. With a wave of his wand, she had a jacket on her shoulders, and her dark eyes rose to the man in surprise.

“I cannot force you to come with us,” he said to her and to Yusuf, “but we will need your statements.”

Yusuf nodded immediately, hovering nearby as if protective of the young woman – was she a witch? She stared at Travers still, then found her voice. “Thank you.”

He nodded back, and turned to Newt. “Mr Scamander,” the magizoologist didn’t look up and plastered his usual ‘scolded pupil’ look on his face, “once again, you are where you are not supposed to be. And once again,” another sigh, “we owe you a great debt. Thank you.”

Newt kept his eyes down, petting injured Kit with his thumb. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do much.”

“I was led to believe that the… _creature_ you’re holding-” it was obvious he didn’t know what it was called “-has retrieved an item that could help us win this oncoming war. So, indeed, thank you.”

Newt didn’t answer this time.

Travers turned around again, stopping one second too long on Jacob, but surprisingly, he didn’t do as Madame Picquery had done and demand his Obliviation. Instead, he said “Come now, I’ll show you to a sitting-room. You’ll be given blankets and something warm to drink.”

Rose let go of Queenie’s hand, and surprised herself when she grabbed Theseus’ arm instead. In his catatonic state, he let her lead him away.

* * *

They’d been given coffee and tea, after several offers of Calming Draughts were vehemently refused. Nicolas bid them goodbye after they thanked him profusely for his help; and Rose asked for a Healer’s supplies to she could take care of the scraps she and her friends had suffered through the night.

She’d tended to a nasty cut on Newt’s forearm; one bad bump on the back of Tina’s head, and a couple of superficial but easily infected scratches on Jacob’s hand and knees.

When she moved to Theseus, she was reminded of the men and women she and her fellow apprentice-Healers had studied about; those who had survived a war and had had to build themselves back up from the ashes of their psyche.

She knew he’d already suffered PTSD after the First World War, he’d told her as much. But she knew that the loss of someone he’d loved so much as Leta was something entirely different than coping with memories of the trenches. She suspected he’d dream of both mixed together, now, and promised herself to keep a close eye on him, even if he didn’t want her to.

She gently took his hand. He flinched, eyes blurry as he was obviously lost in painful thought. She as gently dabbed a bit of dittany on the cuts he had there, and moved to his wrist where a bad bruise had started forming.

After a while, and after she saw that he was not responding to anything surrounding him, she started whispering “You’re in a forest. You are walking among the ferns and fallen leaves that crack underfoot. Sunrays are passing through the canopy, and a soft wind is making the trees sing. You breathe in and out, smelling the damp earth after the rain. Birds are chirping, a squirrel is shuffling in the leaves.” She repeated those words once, twice, thrice, while tending to his wounds, and noticed Jacob was listening and dozing off, Queenie gently placing his head on her shoulder as he did.

Finally, Theseus’ hand closed around hers, and she glanced up, meeting his focused grey-green eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, and she smiled sadly before turning to Yusuf.

* * *

Morning rose, and none had managed to sleep a wink. Some, Jacob and Queenie included, had kept dozing off but never fully fallen asleep; while others, such as Yusuf and Theseus, had kept their eyes wide opened through the night.

Sometime after Rose had tended to them, Newt and Tina disappeared inside the former’s case to check on Kit’s own injuries and no doubt enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. Rose knew it was not the time to talk about romance, but she knew that they needed each other’s company all the same.

She herself had needed more than a dose of coffee to remain fully aware of her surroundings, and had hovered around Theseus all night, to his obvious annoyance.

“Sit down, Rose, I’m fine,” he’d hissed after about an hour of her shifting incessantly to stare at him every minute or so. She’d made a noise to signify she didn’t believe him, and kept monitoring him all the same.

The clock ran seven o’clock when Travers reappeared at the door. Jacob offered to go down into Newt’s case to fetch him and Tina, and the group followed the Head-Auror back to the Atrium then down a number of stairs to a cosy meeting-room.

A witch and a wizard were waiting, looking grim, with two boxes in front of them. Portkeys, Rose understood.

Travers looked at them, and pointedly at Jacob and Credence’s friend. “If you’ve never travelled by Portkey before, hold on to someone who has.”

Tina offered her arm to Credence’s companion with a small smile, and the girl took it, albeit a bit mistrustfully.

Rose kept close to Theseus still, and held his wrist with her free hand even as the chipped tea-cup took them back to England…

* * *

They appeared in the middle of Hogsmeade, next to the fountain. With the time difference, it was a bit after six, and there wasn’t a single soul outside yet. The village was silent, eerily so, and Rose shivered before casting a warming Charm on herself. Many of her friends did the same, including Tina who cast it on the girl still holding her arm.

Travers ushered them forward and towards the castle. Rose’s insides twisted as she remembered the last time she’d been there, and the panic attack that had ensued. Her breathing quickened, and Newt, with one glance towards her, hurried to her side and snatched her hand in his.

She looked up at him, sadly. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I wished I didn’t.”

“No no,” he said, looking up at the morning sky, “I’m doing it for me, not for you.”

She shook her head, not believing a word he said, but grateful for his help nonetheless. His hand in hers did help her this time too, and if the weight didn’t leave her chest, she knew it had little to do with Hogwarts and more to do with the loss they’d suffered a few hours prior…

They reached the gate without issue. A couple more Aurors had been waiting there, and opened the access for them. No Mr Reuel this time, not that Rose minded terribly.

When they reached the long bridge that separated the grounds and the castle, they paused, before Mr Travers said “Go on, Mr Scamander,” and Newt carried on, placing Rose’s hand in Tina’s and telling her to hold her tight. Rose smiled gratefully at him again, and watched as Albus Dumbledore appeared on the other side of the bridge.

Tina squeezed her hand. “Alright, Rose?”

“Don’t let me go,” she whispered, and Theseus, next to her, looked at her curiously. On impulse, she reached for his hand too. “Don’t let _us_ go,” she said this time. Tina nodded solemnly, as if getting the message.

A bit to the right, Jacob was looking around, confused, and Rose wondered for a second if he saw the castle as they did or if the Muggle-Repellent spell still worked and he saw only a ruin. She’d have to ask later, though.

Dumbledore reached Newt at long last, and they appeared to converse for a long time before Newt handed him the pendant. Dumbledore looked beyond shocked, then raised his hands above his head. Rose didn’t understand until Theseus, next to her, waved his wand with her hand still in his, and cuffs fell from the teacher’s wrists. He looked at her for a second before focussing back on his brother. She forced herself to do the same.

A moment later, Newt and Dumbledore were both walking away towards the castle, leaving the others behind.

Tina chuckled in surprise, looking at Rose. “Are they leaving us here?”

Rose chuckled back. “No, they’re not. Jacob?” she called, drawing the Muggle’s attention to her. “Care to see where wizards and witches are made?”

“Miss Scamander,” Mr Travers warned, “you know the rules.”

“Remind me of them later, Mr Travers. Right now, my friends and I need to visit the Hospital Wing and to rest. Healer’s orders.” She smiled mischievously at him, and pulled Theseus forwards despite his apparent rebuttal.

Tina let go of her in favour of pulling Credence’s friend forward with them. The girl looked grateful, if still fearful.

Rose felt like holding on to Theseus’ hand now would be considered weird, so she released it and linked their arms instead. When he looked down at her, a question in his eyes, she simply said “I can’t lose myself in memories.” He nodded, and they followed the retreating forms of Newt and the future Headmaster.

“Good Lord, I love magic!” said Jacob when the castle apparently showed itself to him. And despite everything, all the others laughed at that…


	31. In which memories run amuck

At early as it was, not many students were already awake when the group stepped inside the castle. A few teachers were making their way to the Great Hall, sending curious glances their way, but nobody stopped them or tried to question them, which Rose was extremely grateful for.

Newt and Dumbledore had disappeared in the stairs, towards the latter’s office no doubt, but she wanted to take her friends and companions to the Hospital Wing first. She had done what she could to their physical wounds, but the psychological ones, she couldn’t do much for.

Theseus glanced down at her periodically, as if monitoring whether or not she’d have another panic attack. Rose was too focused on her task to really stop and consider her whereabouts, however. Or perhaps, because she’d already been to Hogwarts once in this time, she wouldn’t panic again…

She was wrong, obviously, for as soon as they stepped inside the very familiar Hospital Wing, she was once again reminded of her time as an Apprentice Healer, working under Madam Pomfrey for several months and taking care of the injuries sustained by her younger cousins. Theseus sensed her tense, and he let go of her arm to take her hand instead. She looked up at him in thanks, and her breathing settled.

Madam Pomfrey’s predecessor saw them from her small office and hurried to their side with a rather severe look on her face. Though Rose didn’t yet know how she was called, it seemed that all the nurses at Hogwarts bore the same expressions when faced with reckless pupils.

“Mister Scamander, what is this?” she asked Theseus, pursing her lips.

“Missus Febris, I’m so sorry. My friends and I sustained injuries in an…incident, last night. My sister thought it better to come here rather than crowd Saint Mungo’s, where people are bound to ask questions.” Of course, that wasn’t at all the reasoning behind Rose’s wish to come to the infirmary, but his excuse was a sound one. She was surprised he’d come up with it so quickly.

The Matron turned her severe eyes to her, then to the rest of their friends, who stood to the side, looking around in a daze. “I am Matron Brigid Febris. Please, find an empty bed and make yourselves comfortable. Healer Scamander and I will discuss your injuries before I decide what to do with you.” She made a gesture as if to swat them away, and Queenie’s blue eyes widened.

Rose shrugged when her friend looked at her incredulously, and Queenie drew Jacob closer before leading him to adjacent empty beds near the back of the room.

Rose could now see two students who were already occupying the space. A very young boy who had to be a First Year and who had his head and right arm bandaged; and an older girl who was clad in Quidditch robes and cradling her left arm. Rose recognized the symptoms of Skele-Gro, having experienced it herself after a nasty match against Slytherin in her Fifth Year.

“Miss Scamander,” the Matron called, and Theseus let go of her reluctantly. She signified that she was fine for the moment, and followed the older woman to her office, which wasn’t much different from Madam Pomfrey’s. “Explain.”

Rose sighed. “I’m not yet sure that what happened is going to be secret, so I can’t tell you much about the circumstances.” Healer had to deal with that on a regular basis, so she knew that the older witch wouldn’t be offended by that. “What I can tell you is, several of us came in close contact with Fiendfyre. There were cuts and bruises that I already tended to with my personal supplies. Dittany, mostly,” she added, needing the precision of her job right then. “What I cannot treat, however, are the psychological scars. We lost someone,” her voice caught, “Theseus will need Dreamless Sleep, and maybe even a Calming Draught.”

The Matron’s eyes widened, and her hand rose to her lips. “Newton?”

Rose shook her head sadly. “No, he’s alright. He’s upstairs with Professor Dumbledore. It was Leta.”

A long silence followed. Then, the nurse looked over Rose’s shoulder, no doubt trying to locate Theseus, and she sighed once more. “Poor boy. Already shattered by the War, and now this.” A determined look appeared on her face. “I’ll make sure he’s properly treated. Anything else?”

“The darker-skinned gentleman is called Yusuf Kama. He bears the scars of an Unbreakable Vow, which should be fulfilled, but I cannot be sure it is. His psyche is also a bit…unsettled. My friend Queenie is sitting with her fiancé Jacob. He’s a Muggle. He’s witnessed things today that no one like him has ever seen before. I think he’ll need Dreamless Sleep as well, unless you have a better idea. And the young woman over there,” she pointed at Credence’s friend, “has remained quite catatonic and shocked since the whole affair.”

The Matron nodded thoughtfully at all of that, before turning to her. “What about you, dear? More panic attacks?”

Rose’s eyes narrowed, but then, she sighed, exhausted. “Two more since we last saw each other. One was rather severe.”

“I’ll give you a Calming Draught too. Do you know what trigger them?”

“Yes.” She didn’t give more information.

“Good. Then you’ll know when to take it.” Business-like, now, she straightened her apron. “Please go and tell Professor Dumbledore I will need to see the younger Mister Scamander as well, when they are done talking. I’ll be good handling this on my own.” She made for the door, but turned to Rose once more. “Good job, Healer Scamander.”

Rose was grateful for the praise. She was less happy to know that she was now requested to cross the whole castle on her own to find her brother and their meddling teacher friend…

With one last glance towards Theseus, she launched a message to Queenie, hoping she’d hear it, before she left the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, the time that it took Rose to go up to the third floor and Professor Dumbledore’s office was quite short. Then again, she’d tried to picture being in a calming setting – unsurprisingly, the Burrow’s orchard – to stop herself from losing her shit in the stairs.

She’d only realised she had arrived when she’d knocked on the door. And reckoned that her muscle memory of her studies at Hogwarts had been into play, since she hadn’t gotten stuck in the vanishing step on the South corridor’s staircase.

Newt opened the door, and his green eyes widened when he saw her, alone. Dumbledore’s voice echoed from inside, and Rose guessed at his tone that he was smiling. “Come on in, Miss Rose.”

The office did not trigger anything, to her awe, and she was almost glad to sit in one of the velvet-covered armchairs. Newt and his friend had already shared a cup of tea, and Kit was cuddling a pillow in front of the fireplace, a bowl of fresh water nearby.

“I’ll have to look at his injuries when we’re home, Newt,” she said without thinking about it twice. When she raised her gaze, she saw that Dumbledore was smiling even wider, and Newt himself seemed touched.

“I can do it, but thank you.”

Rose felt herself blush. Of course, Newt knew better than her how to take care of his creatures’ injuries, what had she been thinking?

Perhaps he’d seen the look on her face, because he then added, “Actually, maybe it’s best if a trained Healer took care of him.” She shook her head affectionately and he smiled.

“Newt and I were done recounting. Was there something you needed?” Dumbledore asked, lounging in his own armchair.

“The Matron has asked for Newt to go downstairs when you have had your conversation. She wants to check on him.” She turned her gaze to said young wizard, and with pursed lips, she said “She’s already tended to Theseus.”

Newt nodded grimly, and stood. “Albus, do you mind?”

“Of course not! I’m actually going to join you. I just need a moment with your delightful sister.” He smiled and waited until the door closed behind the magizoologist to turn his piercing blue eyes to the young witch in front of him. “How are you feeling, Miss Rose?” His smile faded; worry crossing his face, now. “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to face _him_ …”

He didn’t need to elaborate: she was perfectly aware of whom he was talking about. Rose sighed, and looked at Kit once more. “It was…terrifying. I knew a lot of things about him and what he’d done…or what he’ll do, rather, but…”

“No one can truly prepare for a face-off with a Dark Wizard such as Grindelwald…”

Rose huffed. “No, indeed. You’ll know all about that, Professor.” She realised her mistake too late, and felt sorry for him when a look of pure grief appeared on his face. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… That was-”

“What do you know about Gellert Grindelwald, Rose?” He’d dropped the ‘Miss’, which she was somehow grateful for.

Another sigh. “I know enough, Professor.” She met his gaze and stared, refusing to even blink. “I know enough, but I don’t judge you for any of it.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded, closed his eyes for a second, and when he reopened them, he looked almost cheery once more. With a clap of his hands, he stood from his chair. “Well, let’s join the others downstairs, then, what do you think?”

Rose bit her lower lip. Being reminded of what she knew about the famed Professor had also reminded her of something else… She reached inside her jacket, and her fingers closed around a small vial she’d forgotten the existence of.

“Actually…” She stood too, but without any wish to leave. “Can I ask you a favour, I mean, _another one_ , Professor?”

He’d stopped asking her to call him ‘Albus’, which she also was grateful for. “Of course you can, Rose.”

“Could I use your Pensieve? I’ve been delivered a message that I’d like to read…”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes stared back at her intently. Very, very intensely. For a moment, Rose was scared that he might have been a Legilimens, but thankfully, he only chose to say, a small smile tugging at his lips, “I won’t ask how you know that I own a Pensieve, Rose, but I dare say that it is quite unsettling that you do.” He waved his hand, and a cabinet opened, revealing a beautiful stone basin with unknown runes carved around it. “Lock the door on your way out, please,” he added, before leaving the room.

* * *

Rose checked on Kit first, but the Niffler was quietly asleep, careful not to roll onto his own injured paw. She cast a stasis charm on it anyway, just in case, before approaching the cabinet and the Pensieve itself. She’d studied about them, of course, and had seen the very same she was about to go into perched in Professor McGonagall’s office a century later. Still, she had no idea what it would feel like, or what it would look like…

She delicately poured Leta’s memory into the basin, watching it swirl gently, a silver thread in a mist of black, before reaching for it slowly.

The moment her fingers came in contact with the surface, Rose felt herself being pulled forward, not unlike the sensation of travelling by Portkey, and she let out a little squeal as she toppled into the Pensieve, falling through smoke that got more and more defined the further she fell.

Soon, she found herself standing in one of the Ministry’s bathrooms. No doubt on the First Floor, as she recognized the tiles and cubicles. However, it wasn’t exactly the setting that Rose focused on, but the person standing in front of the sink mirror, staring at her own reflection.

Leta was wearing the same clothes that earlier that day, when she’d…gone. Rose felt a lump form in her throat, and she instinctively reached for her friend, but her hand got through the memory of Leta as if she hadn’t been there in the first place.

Tears prickling her eyes, she waited. And she didn’t have to wait long.

“Rose,” Leta said to her own reflection. The red-head understood that the message that the brunette had wanted to give her, she’d forged into a real memory of a speech she’d rehearsed alone. “My dear Rose,” a small smile. “If you are here with me now, it means something horrible has happened, and I am dead. Don’t be sad, though. Death is peace, and I long for peace, even though I know that it is selfish to think so. By now, I hope you know my secret, so that you can better understand why I wish for quiet.” She sighed, and dropped her gaze to the tap, bracing herself on the sink.

Rose nodded to thin air. Leta’s secret: the accident in which her baby brother had died. The accident for which she’d felt responsible her whole life, as if she’d been a murderer, a fratricide.

“Rose, I need your help.” Leta’s eyes went back to her reflection. “In a few minutes, Theseus, Mr Travers and I are going to travel to Paris to find Newt and to stop Grindelwald’s rally. I know you’re with him, because you are as protective a sister as I’ve known you to be since we met in that tea-shop.” She smiled again, prompting Rose to do the same through her tears. “I need you to take care of them. Both of them. I know Newt adores you and let you into his heart and life as he’s done no one since we were at Hogwarts together. But Theseus……if I am dead, and he’s not, then he’ll need you more than ever. I love him, Rose, more than life, but I fear that he feels the same for me…” She chuckled, then, shaking her head. “Listen to me. I must be the only witch in England who wishes for Theseus Scamander not to love her too much…”

Rose chuckled with her. She wasn’t wrong.

“Theseus will not let go of me, of the memory of me. He’s passionate, loving, and loyal to a fault. I fear that he may not let himself love again if I am gone. Worse: that he might do something foolish to join me in the afterlife. Rose…” Her dark gaze became almost apologetic. “Rose, I know that you love him. Not as a brother, not as a friend. I know, because I’ve seen it in you. And I don’t blame you: Salazar knows that Theseus is impossible not to love…”

Rose had gasped at that, and the following words were almost drowned in the noise of her beating heart.

“Rose, don’t feel sorry about it. I know that you’d never try anything, even if he wasn’t engaged to me. You’re too noble for that. But if I am gone then, please, help him love again… You’re an amazing person, Rose, and the only person who was eager to become my friend since Newt. Please do that for me. Take care of them both, and help Theseus love again. And make sure it’s someone who deserves him.”

The memory blurred, meaning it was coming to an end, but Rose could hear one last thing through her own sobs.

“Thank you, for letting me know what it was like to have a true friend…”

* * *

When she landed back in Dumbledore’s office, Rose fell on her knees on the carpet, and let out a deafening scream of grief.

And at last, after hours of living on pure adrenaline, she let go……and properly cried until her eyes were dried out…


	32. In which life begins anew

It took Rose quite some time to feel able to leave Professor Dumbledore’s office to join the others back downstairs. Leta’s memory had troubled her more than she could say, and thoughts were swirling in her head as she tried to focus on what exactly had been the most unsettling. She knew she’d have to stop long enough to really ponder what had been said, but also knew she couldn’t do it right then, when her friends were waiting for her and most certainly worried sick about her.

She gently cooped Kit into her arms, checking the stasis charm on his paw, and the creature nuzzled into her jacket gently, making her smile at him affectionately. Being around Newt’s protégés never failed to lift her mood, she noticed.

As she carried the Niffler back towards the infirmary, Rose had something to focus on other than the familiar settings of Hogwarts, and even managed to mostly ignore the curious glances on the students’ faces when they crossed her path on their way or from their breakfast. When she reached the Hospital Wing, though, she couldn’t ignore the group of five girls that were gathered at the door, desperately trying to get a better look of who was inside.

“Is it him? Is it Theseus Scamander?” was asking one, pushing one of her comrades to the side to get closer to the door. “For real?! I own at least _six_ Chocolate Frog Cards of him! He’s _so_ handsome…”

The others giggled or tried to elbow their way closer too, until Rose pursed her lips and cleared her throat. The girls – who couldn’t be older than Fifth Years and were all Gryffindors – jumped a good foot in the air and turned to her, startled expressions on their faces.

“I’d be glad if you didn’t linger at the door, girls. The Hospital Wing is made for those in need of peace and quiet, and you’re not providing them that by lurking out here.” She plastered a severe look on her face, channelling the fiercest person she’d ever known: her grandmother Molly, as she added “Besides, my brother does not need thirteen-year-olds to drool all over him. He has more important things to do with his day.” She waited for the indignant grimaces that soon appeared when she’d mentioned a younger age than theirs – she’d expected it – and growled for good measure, taking what she hoped was a threatening pace towards them. “Now shoo!”

She felt rather smug when they all scattered away, and the look caught Queenie’s eye when she entered the Wing to find her friends all gathered around Dumbledore, ready to go.

* * *

They had all been cleared by Matron Febris, who once again congratulated Rose on her Healing skills. The young witch was happy to receive such praise, especially from one of the earliest female Healers in the UK.

The gang had decided to gather back at Newt’s place, to calm a bit down and decide what to do next. Theseus looked wary, and more than just physically, but Rose could barely look at him after what she’d just heard inside Leta’s memory. She felt stupid, foolish, childish and guilty about the whole thing.

It’s only when Dumbledore turned to her one last time that she dared raise her gaze to him, still cradling Kit in her arms, a welcome distraction from the elder Scamander brother.

“Rose,” he started with a soft smile, “from now on, I would like it if you thought about what you have done in this…adventure of yours, what it means and what it achieved.” As he saw she was not fully understanding what he meant, he added “I believe the mission you were assigned has been fulfilled.”

She stared blankly at him, and then, the full meaning of his words hit her like a Bludger to the head. Queenie. She’d saved Queenie from Grindelwald. By being there when she was lost, she saved her from his silver-tongue and twisted words.

She’d changed the past.

_Again._

Her breathing accelerated and Newt pushed Tina aside, latching onto her hand as if it was the biggest remedy to her panic. Of course, this time, it did little good, because once again, Rose had screwed things up. By saving Queenie, by saving Graves earlier that year, who knew what she’d had changed for her future? Who knew if her loved ones would ever exist?

Someone grabbed the hand that Newt had gripped, and placed a small vial in her grasp. Newt understood, and helped the vial to Rose’s lips. She almost choked on what was poured in her mouth, but as soon as the Potion hit her tongue, her breathing calmed.

“Thank you, Matron,” Dumbledore said, and when Rose’s sight came back to normal, when the black spots of panic cleared, she understood that Hogwarts’ nurse had given her a Calming Draught. She couldn't find her voice, though, and barely managed to nod her thanks before Newt gently steered her away and back towards the castle entrance.

Behind her, she was dazedly aware of Queenie’s intake of breath and Jacob’s surprised huff as he caught her and stopped her from tripping. Tina caught her sister’s free arm, but the blonde refused to answer their worried questions. Her gaze was locked onto Rose, fear and pain in her eyes.

* * *

Newt’s living-room looked like an improvised tea-party had started in a very dusty alley and went back to his house afterwards. Everyone was covered in grime, dust or blood, with various looks of grief on their faces. Yusuf and Credence’s friend – whose name Rose still didn’t know – were sat on the floor near the fireplace. The dark-skinned wizard was staring at the flames, wincing from time to time when a small tongue of yellow heat rose above the rest.

Theseus was squashed next to Jacob on the sofa, his large hands gripping his teacup tight, spilling a bit of its untouched content onto his already tainted trousers. The usually joyful baker was silent, for a change, and he was watching Rose tend to Kit’s injuries as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Tina was looking after Queenie, who hadn’t spoken a word since they’d Apparated back from Hogwarts. She was trembling, and kept staring at Rose with the look of a deer caught in headlights. Her sister was muttering comforting words, but the blonde Legilimens would not talk, or move.

Newt, on his end, had disappeared into the basement to check on his other creatures, and had just reappeared to hand Rose her house Healing supplies and to put the kettle on. If the others suspected that he wanted to be alone to grieve Leta properly, they didn’t say.

After a while, Theseus stood, spilling the rest of his tea onto the carpet. He cleaned it with a harsh movement of his wand, and strode towards the stairs leading to his brother’s lair. Rose shared a knowing glance with Tina, who nodded, and closed the door behind him with her own wand.

That sudden change in the atmosphere roused Jacob, who then turned to the two prostrate people in front of the fire, and sighed. “So, what’re you gonna do, now, man?” he asked Yusuf.

The wizard shrugged. “I don’t know. My oath is fulfilled, but I have no home to return to.”

“Don’t you have a job?”

He shook his head. “My whole life has been dedicated to find and kill Corvus Lestrange.”

Jacob huffed. “Well okay! But you’d better find something you’re good at now. You’ll need the money!”

Yusuf shrugged again, and looked at the silent girl who, as she had done the past day, almost, was looking at them all in turn, as if wary. “I have a disposition for Advanced Transfiguration, and Astronomy. Wherever that may lead.” He paused. “What about you, Nagini?”

Rose’s head snapped at his words. Had she heard right? “ _Nagini?_ ” she repeated.

The girl raised her head finally, meeting her gaze with her dark eyes. She was frightened. “That’s my name,” she said in her deep voice.

Rose jumped to her feet, placing Kit back down. Now that his paw was fully healed, he scurried away and up the stairs, no doubt to raid her bedroom again. The red-head’s first instinct was to reach for her wand, but a hand on her wrist stopped her, and when she looked down, she was surprised to see Queenie staring back at her, her grip firm, a severe look in her eyes.

“Rose, don’t. She’s not a danger.”

“Queens, she’s-”

“Not now.” The blonde witch shook her head, and gently pushed her sister away before standing, her hand slipping from Rose’s wrist to her hand instead. “Let’s talk alone. Please.”

Tina stood too, but she made no move to follow the two as they left the living-room to her care. Jacob made to ask, but she was swift in silencing his questions.

* * *

Rose had been right in her assumptions: no sooner had she pushed opened the door to her bedroom that she found Kit snuggled in her covers on her pillow, already fast asleep. Ignoring the small creature, whose behaviour was by then familiar to her, she sat next to him, and waited for Queenie to sit next to her.

“You saw, didn’t you?” she asked the blonde, who nodded, her jaw setting as if she was fighting the memory.

“I was the reason. _I_ was the reason you were sent here. _I_ was the reason your life has been _destroyed_.” She grabbed Rose’s hands, eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Rose. _So sorry_ …”

The younger witch shook her head, tears springing to her eyes too, but she wiped at them angrily. “I would do it again, you know.”

Queenie met her gaze, tears still soiling her cheeks, leaving tracks in the dust and grime. “But, Tina-”

“The Tina that sent me here was one that had had to live a long life without her dearest sister. Not the one that I’ve learned to care for and love as a friend.” That Rose had finally understood, because she would have done _anything_ to have Hugo back at her side right then. _A-ny-thing_.

“But…it changed things. That’s what I saw, Rosie. It changed things. It might have changed too much…”

Rose’s breath caught, but she didn’t let herself being pulled back into panic-mode. Or maybe it was just the Calming Draught still being in effect. Actually, it was more likely the potion’s doing than a miraculous hold on her feelings. “We’ll never know. And I can’t regret this. I _won’t_ regret this. Queenie, _I don’t regret it_.” She gripped her friend’s hands tighter. “Even if I had thought about the consequences before, I would have done the same.”

Queenie smiled through the tears, and brought her into a hug that Rose returned, the pain and grief of this last day being too hard to bear alone in that moment. For a minute or two they remained silent, until the lovely blonde murmured “She’s not the Nagini you heard about.” Rose made to push her away, to see her face, but Queenie kept her close, her message being delivered as a secret. “She’s not a Horcrux, she’s a young girl who’s scared more than words can describe. She’s cursed, Rosie. She’s a Maledictus. One day, she’ll fully be a snake. Unless we change that too…”

This time, Rose pushed her away, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what her friend meant by that. “Do you want me to change _more_ things?”

“As you said, there is no knowing how much of what you knew will be altered now that Mr Graves is alive and that I won’t be lost to Grindelwald’s cause. You know about things that still have to happen, Rose. Use what you know. Change this world for the better.”

It reminded Rose of Grindelwald’s own words when he’d tried to sway her to his side.

Queenie caught the passing accusation, and pursed her lips. “I’m not saying that to gain any kind o’ power, Rose. I’ve seen what you’ve thought about when you heard Nagini’s name. I saw that Dark Wizard, the one that will rise and destroy the lives of so many people. Your Uncle…” the thought had just crossed Rose’s mind, and of course, the Legilimens had heard it. “Your Uncle, dead so young… What if we could change that? Make sure…Lord Voldemort? does not rise to power at all…”

Rose shook her head, tears now free to fall on her cheeks. “I can’t, Queenie. No more. I can’t… My family…” She dared not imagine that her parents, her brother, her cousins…might not exist if she played around with time too much.

Queenie nodded, displeased but understanding. “It’s alright, Rosie. I asked too much of you.” Then, she smiled. “Come on, let’s go back downstairs. I’m starving.”

She gently pulled her friend out of the room, promising one of her famed apple strudels when they reached the kitchen…

* * *

A few hours later, after everybody had had a filling meal that still tasted like ashes in their mouths, the group gathered back in the living-room, Newt and Theseus looking like they’d had a long conversation that had soothed them. Rose didn’t think the magizoologist was aware of it, but he was standing quite close to his elder brother, closer than he usually was. Perhaps the instinct to protect Theseus was taking over. She understood the feeling…

Yusuf was the first to go. “I’ll go find accommodation in the city. I think it better for me to stay here, in case you need me in the future. Nagini will come with me. She’ll be safe. I’ll pretend she’s a Squib friend.”

Rose had stared a long while at Credence’s friend while they ate. Beautifully deadly, the girl seemed lovely, in truth, if not rendered fierce by the treatment she’d received all her life. To believe that, one day, she’d become something as odious and horrifying as a Horcrux was impossible.

Once their newest additions to the gang had Disapparated away to Diagon Alley, Tina sighed, placing a hand on Queenie’s in her lap. “We have to go back to New-York. I have to report to MACUSA about what happened in Paris.”

Queenie’s gaze turned sad, and she gripped Jacob’s hand tightly. “But-”

“Queenie,” the baker interrupted her, “we left things unfinished there. I’ve gotta go back to my bakery.” Seeing her eyes fill with tears, he added “Then, when all is settled, we can come back here and…” he faltered, before a small sad smile appeared on his lips, “and we can get married.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, and a wonderful tear-filled smile split her face as she squealed and launched herself into his arms, happy beyond belief.

This small moment of happiness was a reprieve, and a welcome one, in an otherwise very dark day.

Newt alone didn’t seem moved at all by the announcement. Instead, he was staring at Tina. “Do you _really_ have to leave?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and he looked away, green eyes sad and disappointed. The Auror didn’t add anything, which Rose was quite displeased about.

“At any rate, you cannot leave right now; you’ll need an International Portkey set for you three. It’ll take a while.” She then turned to Theseus, and ignored the complex feelings that she felt after the all Pensieve ordeal. “I suppose you’ll have to report to the Ministry as well.”

He shook his head, grey-green eyes settling on the parqueted floor. “I don’t think so. Travers would have handled it. I’ll have to… I’ll have to…” He didn’t finish, but they all knew what he’d have to do: host a ceremony for Leta’s funeral, and settle her affairs.

Realising that his flat must still be filled with his fiancée’s things, Rose blurted out “You’ll stay here tonight. Doctor’s orders.” She ignored the curious glances that her words prompted, and stared back at the Auror, who was about to refuse her. “I’ll have to check on you for at least a couple of days. And nights. Matron Febris was adamant.” She hadn’t been, of course, but Rose played that card so that he wouldn’t refuse her just because she was the one asking.

Thankfully, Newt backed her up. “Yes, it’s better if we all stay put for a couple of days. Rose can better check on us all if we’re close by. And there’s plenty of room. If Tina doesn’t mind sharing. With Rose,” he added, as a blush rose to his cheeks, and then, to Rose’s surprise, to Tina’s cheeks.

Theseus seemed displeased, but did not question his brother’s words further. Apparently, their earlier conversation had shifted the balance between the two siblings. One had to wonder what had been said…

At long last, a truly terrifying and life-changing day ended, in silence, potion-induced peace, and shared dreamless sleeps… Leading to whatever the future would hold.


	33. In which Newt surprises Rose in the best way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi there! I know, it's only been two days since the last update, but I was far too excited to wait...  
> .  
> This chapter has to be my favourite so far. It truly was heartwarming to write it, and so, I wanted for you to have a smile on your face when you reached the end of it.  
> .  
> Enjoy, and let me know if you liked it as much as I do! ;)

Time ticked by, agonisingly slow. Tina, Queenie and Jacob left for New-York in late September, after the Ministry for Magic agreed to let them go. Yusuf and Nagini found a small flat in Diagon Alley, above one of the smallest pubs in England, and the wizard started working at the junk shop situated in the same street. He kept Newt and the others posted, but so far, it felt like his life had taken a better turn.

Nagini visited Newt often. Or at least often-ish. Her condition as a Maledictus was, for all intents and purposes, making her a pariah among witches and wizards, because she had not been able to attend school and was not authorized to keep a job. Instead, she liked to take care of his creatures, and had taken a shine to Bunty, whose bubbly character was doing marvels to her moods. She had had to transform into her snake form a grand total of two times during that last month and a half and, always, out of Rose’s way, so as to not trigger a panic attack she’d been told had more to do with ‘snakes’ than ‘Nagini’ herself.

Newt and Rose had started writing their joined book. About an hour or two each day, they’d be seen in the dining-room, pouring over notes and choosing what to talk about in what order. Then, they retreated to their lonely bedrooms or office to write down what had been suggested. Newt worked best alone. Rose didn’t mind.

So far, they had an entire chapter ready on the uses of hair and scales. They’d started tackling the much more extensive one on venoms, and by mid-October, they had only scratched the surface.

Rose found working on a book with the most famous magizoologist in the world exhilarating. Also, quite frankly, scary, because her name – albeit a ‘fake’ one – would be up there on the cover next to his, and it could very possibly result in another anachronism that could change too much.

She tried not to think about what she might have changed by saving Queenie and Graves. She tried not to imagine that it made the future worse than it already was.

She also tried not to think about Leta and that memory she’d left her. But, try as she may, the brunette almost always invaded her dreams, repeating over and over that she knew Rose loved Theseus, that he wouldn’t ever do anything about it, and that she had to help him find love again.

* * *

On the morning of the 19th October, Rose and Newt had once again met in the dining-room to discuss their notes from the previous day, and to decide how to start an entry on the properties of Murtlap saliva. Nagini had arrived an hour prior, heading downstairs to help Bunty babysit the ever-growing Baby Nifflers. The house was quiet.

Until someone Apparated right in the middle of the room, startling witch and wizard and making their notes fly around the room in a gush of air.

The giggles and laughter that followed the Apparition, however, told them to stand down and lower the wands they’d both raised at once. There, in their living-room, stood Queenie and Jacob, the witch having pulled her fiancé into a Side-Along.

Rose was the first to jump to her feet and to hurry to their friends. “Queen! Jacob! I didn’t know you were coming!” She hugged them both tight, feeling elated at having them close again.

The blonde giggled again, and moved to hug Newt, who took it reluctantly. “We wanted to surprise you! _Surprise!_ ” She’d let her hair grow longer, and wore it a bit below her shoulder, gently curling but devoid of any flourishes.

Newt smiled after he’d clasped forearms with Jacob. “Are you here for good, then?”

Jacob nodded, a huge grin settling on his face. “I sold my bakery, and we made enough money out o’ it that I can open one over here!”

Rose’s smile mirrored his. “That’s amazing!”

“Which also means,” Queenie took over, placing her hand in her man’s, “that we can look for a house, or an apartment, close by!”

Rose’s eyes glinted. “And that we can finally start planning that wedding!”

Newt’s own smile widened. “Oh right! Have you chosen a date, yet?”

Queenie and Jacob shared a glance, and nodded. “Right after Christmas. 26th December. A little more than a year after we first met.” The blonde leaned to kiss her lovely baker on the cheek, and he blushed a bit.

“That’s even more amazing!” Rose shouted, before drawing both of them into a group hug once more. “I can’t wait!”

Queenie and Jacob’s happiness was contagious, and Newt started chuckling too, the atmosphere the lightest it’d been since September.

They spent the rest of that day asking their friends what had happened in New-York and recounting what had occurred in London, their notes forgotten on the dining-room floor…

* * *

About three weeks later, on the 5th November, Rose woke up a year older. She stared up at her bedroom’s ceiling, feeling like burying herself back into the covers to ignore that day altogether, along with the emotions it roused in her.

Her first birthday without her family. One of many, she guessed, because every day that passed made it clearer and clearer that she’d never be able to go back to them.

She cried into her pillow, 22 years-old and heart-broken as never before.

* * *

After a few hours of idling and losing herself in painful memories, Rose decided she’d had enough, and took a dose of Calming Draught before getting dressed to go out. She left a quick note for Newt, who had had to spend the entire night checking on the Graphorn’s female which had gotten into labour, and headed out.

Visiting Theseus at work wasn’t, in retrospect, the best idea she’d had to avoid memories of her family, but the potion she’d taken – and brewed herself – would fend off any panic she’d feel upon setting foot in the Ministry again.

She’d checked on the elder Scamander brother several times since September. He’d stayed at Newt’s place for longer than they’d all expected, eleven days, but had finally had to go back to work and, she supposed, to his empty apartment. Rose knew, from Newt and from Theseus’ colleagues, that he spent as much time as possible at work, sleeping in empty meeting rooms or not sleeping at all. She knew why, but had not breached the subject with him yet, not feeling like it was her place to do so.

It was the seventh time now that Rose used the ancient underground staircase to get into the familiar Ministry. The fifth time she’d taken a Calming Draught before even crossing the barrier. Once, she’d decided to take it with her but to see if it was needed. She hadn’t made it to the lifts before downing the vial.

She got onto the First Floor easily, being stopped only once by a woman who asked her how Newt fared. Apparently, she was a fan. Rose answered her questions as generically as she could, and headed straight for the Aurors’ office, which, thankfully, was one of the few places she knew that had changed drastically in the century that followed.

Theseus wasn’t at his desk but, to be fair, neither were most of his colleagues. Even Mr Travers’ office was empty, door left ajar to show a vacant chair and a desk filled with papers.

The sole person present was his new secretary, a curvy, severe-looking witch by the name of River. She was used to Rose visiting, and silently conjured a cup of tea for when the red-head reached her desk.

“Good morning, River. Where is everyone?”

“Miss Rose,” the sandy-blonde woman answered curtly, gesturing her to take a seat, which she did. “They’re in a meeting. Should be over in a few.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Grindelwald might have been sighted.”

Rose put down the tea without having even taken a sip, eyes wide. Not an Auror, she wasn’t supposed to know _anything_ about what the Department did or found out; but Mr Travers had been pliant on the matter of the Dark Wizard. The Scamanders had fought him twice, so they were entitled to know at least about _him_. “Where?” she hissed, already worried about the answer.

“South Africa. But Mr Travers doesn’t think the intel is reliable.”

Rose pursed her lips. No, South Africa was odd. It was one of the least populated countries in the world, wizarding folk-wise. Even in the 2020s, it had one of the lowest rates on the planet. And it remained unexplained. “I think he’s right. He’s playing us again.”

River sighed, taking a sip of her own tea before changing the subject. “Mister Theseus was away a lot these past few days. Got out of the office in the middle of the day, to go on ‘errands’. I wonder if he’s seeing anyone…”

Rose almost spit her tea. Theseus? Seeing someone? Barely two months since his fiancée had died? She doubted it. But his going on ‘errands’ several times a day was such a stellar change to his usual routine of staying put in the Aurors’ office day or night that it _did_ bear question. “I don’t think he is. But that _is_ strange…”

“You know better than I do, being his sister and all…” Rose felt the need to roll her eyes, but refrained. River managed to subtly question her about Theseus’ romantic status each time they spoke together. Of course, most single witches in London were interested as well; but it was just so….soon!

So Rose didn’t answer, and stood from the chair, turning back to her brother’s desk. “Do you really think they’ll be done soon? Otherwise, I can come back later…”

“No, they’ll be done soon. They’ve been gone almost an hour, and Mr Travers is very precise about the time allotted to meetings.” That he was. The man was precise about a lot of things…

* * *

As if they’d heard her through the walls, the door to the Department opened, and each and every Auror on duty that day filed in, conversing together in what looked like angry tones, which confirmed Rose’s suspicions that the intel had been fake.

Travers and Theseus entered together, the first with a determined look on his face as he addressed the second, who looked much wearier. Then again, Theseus had looked exhausted for two months, now…

“Ah, Miss Rose, I was wondering why we hadn’t seen you this week yet,” the Head of Department joked as he made his way to his office.

“Mr Travers,” she answered with a small shake of her head. “If my presence is inconvenient, you can always say so.”

He shook his head too, with a small smirk. “Nonsense. Your presence always lifts the mood.” He threw a knowing glance at his men – and women – before going back inside his office, dismissing Rose at the same time.

She was used to it by then. What she wasn’t used to were the heated glances sent her way by some of the Aurors each time they saw her. Some of them she even knew were married. Ugh.

“Rose,” Theseus greeted her, surprising her with looking rather pleased to see her. “How are you?”

“Tired,” she said, not elaborating further as she followed him to his desk. She fell into the chair facing him, almost petulantly. “I wish there was something exciting to do around here.” Theseus raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain herself. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s its own kind of exciting to write a book with Newton, but…we’re always at the house. I need air.”

He nodded, glancing around with a dark look on his face. She understood it: he was cooped up in the Ministry too. By his own designs, but still…

So, she asked, huffing the question so quickly she thought he wouldn’t hear it right, “Doyouwanttogrababite?”

He looked back at her, visibly pondering, before slowly nodding. “Perhaps that’s a good idea. Diagon?” Rose was stunned by his answer, having already steeled herself for a rebuttal, but she wasn’t about to ask him if he was sure.

So she shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea.”

“In fact, I have.” He stood, but looked uneasy. “Do you mind going to Muggle London? I don’t really like being stared at wherever I go.”

Rose stood as well, a small sad smile on her lips. She understood the feeling better than he realised. Her mother, having been appointed Minister for Magic, could barely walk two paces without being assaulted by passers-by eager to talk to her or just to take a look at the Brightest Witch of her Age War Hero Minister. “Theseus…” she dropped her voice, “why would I mind?”

The corners of his lips tugged up a bit, but he didn’t smile. “Most witches and wizards don’t like crossing into Muggle London.”

“Well, I do,” she answered, jutting her chin up. “My mother was Muggle-born, after all.”

He hadn’t known, she didn’t think, for his grey-green eyes widened. Then, he gestured for her to leave the room, and looked back to signify his partner that he’d gone for lunch with his sister.

Rose’s heart beat faster all the way to Charing Cross Road, and it had nothing to do with panic…

* * *

If Wizarding 1920s London was already a stark difference from what she’d known, it was nothing compared to the Muggle side of the city, which seemed to have evolved in a matter of weeks rather than a century. Most of what she saw that day belonged in a 19th century museum, and the scarce number of cars driving past was swallowed in a vexing swirl of oil-lampposts; carriages and crinolines. She immediately thought that Downton Abbey couldn’t possibly have been that wrong, then chided herself for being stupid to compare her knowledge of History to what was shown in a TV show…

Theseus brought her to a lovely teashop where he apparently was a regular, and introduced his ‘sister’ to a waitress who was making moon eyes at him. Rose was rather displeased, but also amused that his charm even crossed into the Muggle world, where he wasn’t famous by any means.

They ate omelettes, keeping it simple, and sipped on tea, not talking, most of the time, but sharing some things from their daily life all the same. He was doing better, she noticed, even if, often, his eyes would glaze over as he lost himself in his grief. All in all, it was a rather pleasing lunch break.

When she got home in the middle of the afternoon, though, Rose couldn’t possibly have anticipated the sight that welcomed her once she stepped inside.

* * *

In true Muggle fashion, everyone that had been hiding in the shadows jumped into view, startling her to death as they shouted ‘ ** _Happy Birthday, Rose!_** ’.

Her eyes flew from person to person, clocking Queenie and Jacob, obviously, but also Yusuf, Nagini, Bunty, Professor Dumbledore, Theseus – who she’d just left at the entrance of the Ministry, the lying conniving bastard – and… “ _Tina!_ ”

The brunette smiled widely before engulfing her in a hug. “Surprise! Happy birthday, Rosie.”

Rose had long since stopped trying to prevent her friends from using that blasted nickname. In a way, she was even glad someone was perpetuating her Dad’s silly pet-name. She hugged her friend back, then pulled away, a wide, dazed smile on her lips. “How did you know?”

Newt, who’d been in the kitchen up until that very moment, stepped closer, a matter-of-factly look on his face. “Queenie saw it in your head. Told me. I told them.”

Rose stared at Queenie, who shrugged cheekily. Rose promised herself to scold her later. For the moment, she had her friends around her, and she was happy to celebrate her birthday, while, several hours prior, she had felt miserable about it.

Her brow furrowed when she realised something else, and before Newt could hand her whatever gift he’d bought her, she asked “Wait a second. How could you make sure I’d be out of the house long enough for you to plan this all?”

He smiled mischievously. “I knew you’d go see Theseus. You hadn’t gone in five days and you never go this long without checking on him. Just asked him to make sure you didn’t return for a while.”

Rose felt an embarrassed blush rise to her cheeks, but she avoided looking at the incriminating wizard. Damn Newt and his observational skills.

He then finally handed her the package he was holding, which felt like it was a painting for some sort: she could feel the frame. “What’s this?” she dumbly asked.

He smiled softly, this time. “It’s from all of us. Queenie helped. Bunty did most the work.” The young witch blushed at the hidden compliment, smitten, as usual, with her boss.

“Thanks,” Rose croaked before carefully unwrapping the gift.

It was a painting. One that had her gasp, stumble back, and erupt in uncontrollable sobs.

There, staring back at her, waving, smiling and laughing, were her parents, and Hugo. As she remembered them the best: her father having wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders and drawing her closer to his lanky form; her mother rolling her eyes affectionately; her brother jumping up and down, a massive grin on his lips as he waved at his sister.

Someone gently took the frame from her to place it on the coffee table, and Rose sat on the sofa, still sobbing, staring at the picture as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Newt,” she managed, heart swelling with emotion, “how did you-?”

“Queenie knew what they looked like: she described them to Bunty who drew them. Then Theseus and I brought the drawing to a painter Professor Dumbledore told us about.”

Rose’s gaze went to each person he was mentioning, love washing over her stronger and stronger still. These people she’d met only months prior had done _this_ for her…

It _was_ the most precious painting in the world…

So she launched herself into Newt’s arms, hugging him as tight as she could to make him understand how much she loved him for gifting her with such a priceless thing. “Newton Scamander, you truly are the _best_ brother I could have ever wished for…”


	34. In which a marriage happens

Rose placed her gift in her bedroom that very day, and couldn’t stop admiring it until quite late into the night. Her heart swelled again and again at the thought that her friends had all contributed one way or another into the gift. Queenie had described her family with as many details as she could conjure from Rose’s mind; Bunty had drawn it flawlessly – the girl was quite talented, and Newt had subsequently asked her to illustrate their book – and Jacob and Tina had helped Newt and Theseus with funding the painting. Professor Dumbledore had provided his contact; Yusuf had procured the frame; and Nagini had even sculpted the word ‘family’ in runes all around it.

No, really, she could not stop looking at it, and loving each and every person who’d given it to her. To think that Theseus had left his hiding place for the sole purpose of accompanying Newt to the painter was a feat in itself…

For days after her birthday, she would run upstairs to check that the painting was still there, and that her parents and brother were still smiling and waving at her lovingly.

The painting wasn’t an official magical portrait, therefore it wasn’t imbued with the subjects’ personality and couldn’t talk back, but she told them everything she’d done every day, and it helped tremendously. She didn’t suffer a panic attack for weeks after receiving the gift.

The next one, actually, happened on a fated date. On the 3rd December.

* * *

That morning, Rose woke with an immense weight on her chest. She started hyperventilating before she was even fully awake, and knocked over the vial of Calming Draught that she always kept on her bedside table just in case. Thankfully, the noise roused Newt, and she counted thirty frantic heartbeats before he stormed into the room.

Not caring about the slip she was wearing, he sat on the bed promptly and gathered her into one of the most comforting hugs he’d ever provided her with. She gripped his back and sobbed minutely into his shoulder, soaking his pyjama shirt while he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

It was a long moment before she managed to calm down, for no thought of a quiet meadow or lovely beach managed to pull her out of the excruciating pain of having to remember that, a year prior to that day, she’d been wrenched from her family, her time, her life, and forced into another one.

She sniffed before gently pulling away from Newt, who kept hold of her shoulders just in case. He didn’t seem to mind about his wet shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Rose croaked, ashamed and heartbroken, once again.

“Stop apologizing,” he said in a quiet low voice. “I should have been up earlier to make sure you woke up okay. I should be sorry.”

Despite everything, she chuckled through her tears and sniffing. “You truly are an amazing brother, Newt.”

“I have an amazing sister,” he countered easily, before conjuring a handkerchief. He let her regain some semblant of dignity, and sighed. “I was about to offer you breakfast, but I don’t suppose you’d be up for it today.” He didn’t wait for her answer. “But I still think you should come downstairs. Chamomile?”

Rose marvelled at this man, how well he knew her now, how well he knew how to take care of her while respecting her boundaries. She knew any other people, members of her family even; who’d have forced fed her in this instance. Her Aunt Ginny, for example.

Slowly, she nodded, reaching for her wand to summon her bathrobe. “I’ll be a minute. I….need to…...talk to them.” She looked at the painting hanging over her desk, and Newt smiled at it. Rose was often surprised to see Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Hugo Granger-Weasley waving enthusiastically at Newton Scamander, but then again, she shouldn’t have been.

* * *

Almost half an hour later, when she managed to drag herself down the stairs and to the kitchen, she was treated with Queenie and Jacob’s presence. They both looked like they’d arrived just after waking up, and the lovely baker had brought some of his most comforting pastries for Rose. Queenie drew her into a hug as soon as she entered the room, and Jacob did the same before placing a Niffler-shaped cinnamon bun in front of her. Newt completed the picture with his famed chamomile, and she was filled with love once again.

That day, she refused to drug herself with any potion, although it was tempting. She needed to grieve that past year on her own terms, and spent most the day thinking and recounting, lounging in the living-room with her friends and family.

She could now easily tell them what her parents and brother and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents had been like. She could tell them how her Hogwarts years had gone; what pranks her cousins James and Fred had pulled during their own studies; what her mother had liked to cook her when she sensed she was felling down; how her grandma Molly was a force of nature.

It helped her let go, somehow, of the pain that always accompanied the memories, and start just feeling them as that: memories, to be cherished and not feared.

That night, she didn’t need the Calming Draught. Nor the chamomile.

* * *

Rose’s second Christmas away from home went radically better than the first. Bunty had helped Newt decorating the whole house, while she, Queenie and Jacob took care of the meal.

They’d invited the usual gang, minus Professor Dumbledore, who’d spend Christmas at Hogwarts, as was traditional for a member of staff. Newt did send him a bunch of Jacob’s cakes, though.

No gifts were exchanged, for they had chosen instead to put all the effort into the wedding that was taking place the following day. But, try as they might, they still did receive a surprise gift in the form of an announcement that Tina made after dessert.

“I’ve asked for a transfer. I’m moving here. I’m gonna be an Auror in the Ministry. Picquery signed the paperwork two days ago.”

The whole room erupted in congratulations and elated shouts and giggles. Theseus shook hands with his future colleague, a genuine smile on his face. Queenie leapt from her seat to hug her sister, and Newt’s grin could have powered a small village running on electricity, had he known what it was…

* * *

Jacob, who had spent the night in the guest room, as per tradition separated from his bride on the eve of their wedding, woke Newt and Rose up at dawn, excited as a Baby Niffler left to their own designs. The magizoologist failed to contain his friend’s excitement, and when Rose left them both into Theseus’ care at 8am sharp, she patted his shoulder, wishing him luck. He looked rather apprehensive, which made her chuckle as she Apparated to Queenie’s small flat.

She and Jacob had rented a lovely two-bedroom apartment near King’s Cross. It was quaint, but the witch had decorated with such great taste that it even looked bigger on the inside, which regularly brought a cheeky smile to Rose’s lips when she thought the line. Hugo was a massive Whovian.

That morning, she found her friend and her sister sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on tea while a witch whose job consisted in make-up charms and the like was pouring over their manicures and face make-ups.

Tina looked on the verge of tears every two seconds or so when she gazed adoringly at her younger sister, and Rose latched onto her hand as soon as she was sat. Baring sight of the two Goldstein sisters and their tight bond never failed to put Rose’s presence in 1927 into perspective. Try as she might, she would never regret saving Queenie from Grindelwald’s clutches.

“So, Miss Scamander, is it?” asked the witch – a grey-haired, round-faced and kind-looking woman – when she was done with placing a stasis charm on Queenie’s make-up, which was delightfully subtle, in shades of pink and white. “Are you the maid-of-honour?”

Queenie nodded excitedly. “She is!”

Rose grinned. She’d had the honour of being asked after Queenie made it clear she couldn’t refuse. Tina was walking her to the altar, so Rose was the only possible option for maid-of-honour.

“Lovely!” the witch said, pivoting towards the red-head. “I’ve seen the dress, so let me just decide which colours…” She tilted her head to the side several times, as if trying to catch every angle of Rose’s features, until she smiled. “I think your complexion demands bright colours. A yellow eyeshadow would do marvels with that orange dress!” She didn’t wait for an answer, and started waving her wand into delicate motions while Rose kept still.

* * *

At 11:30am, all three women were dressed, coiffed and painted. Queenie wore a gorgeous chiffon and lace ivory dress with a V-neckline that showed the delicate corset underneath and that was mirrored at her back, with billowing mid-sleeves. Her hair had been curled and done up, a pin in the shape of a Thunderbird holding her veil in place. She’d chosen it in homage to Frank, the creature who’d involuntarily helped her and Jacob meet, since he’d been the reason Newt had gone to America in the first place.

The wedding dress was the only piece of clothing that Queenie hadn’t made herself, though, for she had created and made Tina and Rose’s gowns. They were both exquisite.

The brunette favouring darker colours, Queenie had made her a flapper dress in charcoal and silver colours. The embroideries running around the corsage, when looked at up close, were of linked hands, those of the sisters, with a Star of David hiding here and there, to remember their Jewish heritage. Tina had curled her hair up too, and was wearing a headband with a silver feather on it. No doubt that of a Fwooper, Rose thought, and she wondered for a second if Queenie had taken one of Lylah’s and dyed it, before realising it was quite a stupid thought.

Her own attire was no less gorgeous than her friends’. Queenie had wanted to showcase her flaming hair, and had chosen flaming orange and gold as her colours. It was a sleeveless, flowing dress, with a heart-shaped neckline – which meant she had had to suffer through the fitting of a corset, but she had to admit it looked stunning – and golden sequins that pooled like liquid fire below her hip-line, giving way to orange tulle and chiffon. Her growing hair had been curled and gathered up in a similar fashion as her friends’, and the make-up artist witch had even indulged in using a bit of golden glitter on her cheeks. She’d done the same with Queenie, though, because Rose hated the thought of being the centre of attention on her dear friend’s wedding.

She needn’t have worried.

When they reached the venue – a large estate in Buckinghamshire, which Newt and Rose had managed to rent for the day – all eyes were on the bride. Some on the maid-of-honour, but Queenie glowed so brightly it was impossible not to just gawk at her.

The whole gang had been invited, of course, as well as Queenie’s new colleagues at Robes for All Occasions – most of which giggled each time Theseus so much as moved – her friends from America who had managed to come; and a couple of former colleagues from the Wand Permit Office at MACUSA. President Picquery had even sent over a card and small present for the bride and groom.

Rose felt herself blush to the roots of her hair as she walked down the aisle, catching Theseus’ stunned expression when she passed him. She didn’t know what to think of it, though, so she chose to focus on Newt’s obvious discomfort where he stood with Jacob as his best-man. When she caught her eye, he relaxed visibly.

Jacob’s look of wonder and blazing love when Queenie appeared on her sister’s arm was one of the most joyful things Rose had ever seen in her life, she was sure. She felt so happy for her friends that tears began falling on her cheeks. Not for the first time, she blessed magic and stasis charms for existing.

Queenie and Jacob exchanged simple but meaningful vows, with one little mandatory addition on the Muggle’s part in which he had to swear he would not break the Status of Secrecy. The magic binding them together swirled over their joined hands, and magically-conjured wedding bands appeared on their finger before they exchanged a soft loving kiss, and everyone in attendance cheered loudly.

* * *

Rose had attended only one wedding before: that of her cousin Victoire and of Teddy Lupin, who was as good as another cousin. She should have been prepared for the sudden shifting of the ceremonial aisles into a circle of tables and chairs, surrounding a shiny dancefloor. She still was amazed at the display.

Amidst the happiness, joy and love that permeated the whole day, Mr and Mrs Kowalski share their first dance, a simple one during which Jacob stumbled more than once, but kept grinning and chuckling in his adorable laugh, his eyes glistening with the joy he felt.

Tina had to pull Newt to his feet, but even though he literally dug his heels in, he let her take him to the dancefloor. Rose was not the only person to notice that the Auror was leading, and the magizoologist was being led.

“May I?”

The red-head raised her gaze from where she’d been smiling widely as his brother’s stare on his feet as he tried very hard not to step on Tina’s, and met the grey-green eyes of one very attractive man she’d been avoiding all day.

Theseus had obviously been drinking, because the usual pained look in his eyes had been replaced with the merry one that alcohol provided. He wasn’t drunk though, which is why she shyly nodded, rising to her heeled feet and placing her hand in his.

He was wearing a dashing grey tweed suit with a darker tie, and had swept his hair almost accidentally into a shape that made him look years younger.

Rose caught Queenie’s pointed look when they joined the dancers, but she ignored her friend’s antics in favour of focusing on the moment. She was dancing with Theseus. For the first time since Leta had died. For the first time since she’d fully acknowledged having feelings for him. While wearing a very form-fitting dress.

“Queenie outdid herself with your attire,” he whispered while gently leading her into a waltz, as if reading her mind.

Rose chuckled darkly. “She did, didn’t she? I wonder if she had something in mind…” At the prompting of his quizzical gaze, she elaborated. “She has Jacob, and Tina has Newt. I think she wants me to find someone too…”

Theseus huffed in surprise. “Would you, though? I thought you’d want to avoid entering a relationship, in case you could…go home.” If Rose wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a bit pained at the idea. She ignored it, though, thinking she’d dreamt it.

“I…don’t think I will ever go back. Besides,” she smiled, looking pointedly at her friends, the closest people to family she had in this time, “I have found a home here too.” The look in his eyes when she stared back up at him was puzzling in its intensity, and Rose let herself get lost in it for a moment.

Leta’s words kept nagging at her mind. She was most possibly falling in love with Theseus. But he could never feel the same for her. She was his sister, for Godric’s sake…

“Rose…” he quietly called a moment later, but he wasn’t really going to tell her anything. Instead, he was looking over her shoulder, a wondrous smile on his lips. She pivoted, curious to see what had him so elated.

She would have stumbled and fallen onto her face hadn’t he been holding her close.

There, on the dancefloor, surprisingly not caring about anyone around them, were Tina and Newt. Kissing.

“Well,” she chuckled, pleased beyond belief, “they surely took their time!”

When she looked back at Theseus, he was looking at her, again with that unreadable look in his eyes. “They surely did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If any of you are wondering about my influences for the girls' outfits, here are the links:  
> \- Queenie's dress: https://www.aliexpress.com/item/33014417809.html  
> \- Rose's dress: https://www.cozzoo.com/home/176324-1880609-angel-fashions-women-s-sweetheart-sequin-evening-dresses-lace-up-illusion-hochzeit-party-gown-blue-106.html


	35. In which the Alps are very unwelcoming

1928 dawned quietly, without a fuss. Queenie and Jacob, newly married, decided to forego a honeymoon to instead help Tina settle in her new life. Of course, the newest Auror at the Ministry chose to live with her sister, but most of her free time after work was spent at Newt’s, in the basement. Rose regularly rolled her eyes when she heard her friend sneak out of the house after the sun had set; surely Tina didn’t expect that her long overdue relationship with Newt was secret, did she?

When Rose paid Theseus a visit, now, she would always go and say hi to ‘Auror Goldstein’, whose desk was situated on the opposite side as her ‘brother’s’. Being American, she had initially been shunned by the others, but Theseus had apparently made a point of showing how much he respected their new partner; and anything he did rubbed off on the others. He was a War Hero, after all…

Sometime in February, things started shifting again.

Newt and Rose had been pouring over the finished manuscript of their book for the better part of the day, unsure of what parts needed editing and what parts didn’t, when there was a hurried knock on the door.

Not many of their friends used the front door, most of them just Apparated inside, so Rose knew that it had to be Nagini. She went to open for the young woman, who was wearing a lovely dark blue coat that accented her jet black hair and dark eyes; and clocked her distress immediately.

“Nagini? What’s wrong?” she said, steering her friend to the couch, silently beckoning Newt closer.

The Maledictus was cradling a letter in her hands, crumpled, as if she’d squeezed it instead of its sender. Her eyes were bright, but she did not shed a tear when she announced “I’ve received a letter from Credence.”

Rose gasped; Newt hurried to their side, and sat on the armchair facing them. “What does he say?” he asked, not wasting a second.

Nagini handed the letter to Rose, who didn’t waste time either, reading it aloud for her brother to hear.

* * *

“ _Dear Nagini,_

_I am well. Mister Grindelwald is taking very good care of me. He’s offered me a wand, a roof over my head, and answers. I finally know who I am. I can’t tell you, though, for Grindelwald thinks that the people I’m linked too could use the information against us._

_Nagini, I wish you were here. I wish you had joined me. You still could. I miss you._

_I know that you were scared of him, of what he wants to do. But he can help you, he’s told me as much. He can help you, he can help us._

_Please, send word that you are willing to join me here. He’ll send someone to fetch you._

_Please._

_Love,_

_‘Credence’._ ”

* * *

There was a short silence following the end of the letter. Although quite personal at times – it was clear that Credence and Nagini were more than friends, or at the very least felt deeper for each other than just friendship – the letter was more a way to lure the girl into joining Grindelwald’s side.

Only one thing bore question.

“Do you think Grindelwald asked Credence to write this?” Rose asked Newt, but he slowly shook his head, obviously deep in thought as he stared at Nagini.

“I don’t think so. Sounds like he misses her too much.” Then, he swiftly got to his knees, taking Nagini’s hand. Rose had been surprised, at first, by the familiarity with which he always treated the Maledictus. Then, she’d understood: Nagini was like one of his creatures; she’d awaken a need for him to understand her, her curse, her abilities, and a need to protect her from harm. To anyone else, it’d have been rather offensive, but not to a touch-starved young woman who craved that sort of protection. “Nagini,” he whispered, “you do know there is no way to reverse a blood-curse, don’t you?”

She nodded, eyes filled with unshed tears once again. “I know.”

“Good.” He nodded once, and stood, turning to Rose. “Can you send Dumbledore word? I’ll Floo-call Theseus.”

Rose nodded back. Obviously. They needed to inform the ‘authorities’. There may have been a way to track down Credence’s letter, to find out where it’d been sent from. She gently patted Nagini’s hand on the couch, and raised her wand, summoning her lioness with a thought of her birthday and the painting she’d been offered.

* * *

Instead of gathering at the Scamanders’ house, Rose, Newt and Nagini were asked to join the others at the Ministry. Mr Travers welcomed them with a serious look in his grey eyes, and led them to a meeting room on Floor Two, where they found Tina, Theseus and Dumbledore.

Nagini let them read the letter aloud one more time, and Rose didn’t miss the calculating gaze the Hogwarts Professor bore throughout.

“You need to answer him,” he said as soon as Tina was done reading. All eyes went to him, of course, but he kept his piercing blue eyes on Nagini, unblinking. “You need to answer him, so we can track down your owl.”

“It’s against the law to do that, Dumbledore,” Travers countered, the more pronounced edge of his Scottish accent making it clear he was displeased.

“Not if she uses a private owl instead of a postal one, am I wrong?”

Travers didn’t answer. Which answered in its own way.

Newt shook his head. “You won’t use Lylah this time, Albus. It’s too dangerous. They may know we have put a tracking spell on her.”

Rose could see that Dumbledore was about to insist, so she interrupted his trail of thoughts. “What if we track the letter instead of the owl?”

Tina smirked, visibly proud of her cunning idea.

Travers looked at Theseus, who shrugged, gears turning. “Can be done. But they’ll no doubt know it’s been charmed as soon as it arrives.”

“Won’t matter, since it will have arrived,” Rose pushed the matter. “And that way, Nagini can use a public owl.”

Travers seemed to think about it for a moment, and shared a glance with Dumbledore, whose pursed lips twitched into a smirk a moment later. With his Irish lilt seeping through, he said “Yet another proof that Miss Rose Scamander is much more than a pretty face.”

She’d have rolled her eyes, but instead, she blushed, because Theseus’ eyes had found hers as soon as his former teacher had said those words, as if he wholeheartedly agreed.

“Miss Nagini,” Travers said at long last, “would you mind writing your answer here and now, so that we can send it as soon as possible?”

The dark-haired girl shrunk in on herself, eyes darting from one person to the other. “I c-can, but…will you stay in the room?”

It might have sounded suspicious, as Travers’ eyes narrowed, but Rose understood, so she explained for the battle-worn Aurors in presence. “You’d wish for some privacy, I understand. They’ll still need to make sure you are not leaving him information that could compromise us. Do you mind if one of us stays?”

Nagini stared at her, then glared at Travers, having understood that there was mistrust in that room. Then she nodded. “Tina, do you mind?” After all, the brunette had had a hand in saving her back in Paris, not to mention she’d helped Credence in New-York; and she’d been one of Nagini’s favourite people ever since.

Tina nodded, and the rest of them filed out of the room quietly.

Travers turned to Rose as soon as they were back in the corridor. “Brilliant thinking back there, Miss Rose. Thank you.”

She smirked. “We women do have some brains to our name, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Madeleine makes it painfully obvious every darned day of my life.” She chuckled, and he turned to the meeting-room’s door before looking back at Theseus. “Can you handle this?”

“Of course, Sir,” the Auror said, the edge of something in his voice, as if he was displeased his boss would ever insinuate that he couldn’t handle something as simple as a tracking spell on a letter.

Travers didn’t notice, or ignored it, and he signalled Dumbledore to follow him. Both wizards left the three Scamanders behind without a word more.

* * *

It took the postal owl two days to carry the charmed letter to its intended recipient. Two days during which the whole Auror Department was in red-alert, ready to bolt as soon as the final destination of the letter was known. Two days during which Albus Dumbledore left Hogwarts to wait it out at the Ministry.

Two days at the end of which Mr Travers announced something that Rose had started to suspect without being able to talk about it. “They’re in the Alps. Austria.”

Rose managed a croaked whisper, one that thankfully passed unnoticed. “Nurmengard.” The famed fortress that had held Grindelwald from his defeat at Dumbledore’s hand until his death during the Second Wizarding War. But wasn’t it a prison?

Travers didn’t stop to let her think further on that, as he started barking orders left and right. “McMillan, Wilson, Jones, Daly, Goldstein, Scamander, you’re with me. Dumbledore, Scamander, Scamander, Miss Nagini, stay behind at all times.” He clocked someone’s obvious displeasure, and ended it with a stern “You should already be thankful I’m letting civilians tag along at all. Don’t question my orders.”

The aforementioned Aurors filed away to their desks to gather whatever they’d need for the journey and possible confrontation, but as Theseus passed his boss, he stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Scamander, if he’s there, do _not_ engage him.”

Theseus’ glare could have frozen a Graphorn stampede, but he nodded sharply. Rose, in a daze, understood that he wanted to confront Grindelwald. To avenge Leta. She gritted her teeth, suddenly overcome with the _need_ to hurt the Dark Wizard herself. To make him pay. To make him suffer.

“Come to think of it,” Travers continued, eyes now on Rose and Newt, who’d tensed up as well, “ _none_ of the Scamanders are to engage Grindelwald if he shows his face. Understood?”

Neither Rose nor Newt answered. He was not _their_ boss, after all…

* * *

The trip to Austria was a weird one. First, the Portkey Department had had to produce an emergency Portkey leading to the coordinates left by Nagini’s letter, then another, since the party was a relatively large one. Then, when the group landed in the middle of the mountains, they were faced with a disturbing sight.

Nurmengard fortress had been built on the edge of an impregnable mountain. Its black stone walls defied all that would dare set foot close enough to enter, and the solitary, almost lavender towers that spiked through the sky was as sharp as a dragon tooth.

But the most horrifying thing about the place, despite the cold cruelty that emanated from the very air, was the gate, and the words that had been woven into the steel. ‘For the Greater Good’.

Rose felt a lump form in her throat and a powerful wave of hatred wash over her when she realised what it reminded her of. “Auschwitz,” she hissed. It reminded her of the cursed words that the Nazi had placed at the entrance of their own prison. Or will place, for none in attendance understood what she had said. Needless to say, the correlation between Nurmengard and the Polish death camp was now making her more enraged than ever.

The Aurors moved first, checking the gate for jinxes, curses or wards. Finding nothing of the sort, the group stepped forward, over a thin bridge battered by winds that threatened to push them into the abyss below. Wands raised high, they all charmed their feet to stick to the bridge’s stone, and Newt did the same to Nagini’s.

Several wards had been placed at the front door, however. Dumbledore pushed past the Aurors, raised his wand, and wordlessly broke them. Rose was struck by the power the wizard exuded at that moment. She’d never been fully aware of why Albus Dumbledore had been so famous for the best part of 150 years, but now she understood. Nobody else could have broken spells placed there by the Elder Wand without breaking a sweat.

The castle’s inside was as cold and uninviting as the outside. Winds blew in the corridors, seeping into bones, chilling the soul. No candle, no torch lit the hallways leading to various empty rooms. It looked entirely abandoned, as if it had been for years.

Auror McMillan was the first to think of casting a ‘ _Hominum Revelio_ ’, and was swift in announcing the presence of thirty-four people, scattered around the place, all alone in small rooms.

“Scatter around,” Travers hissed, gesturing to his Aurors and the people he’d called ‘tourists’. “McMillan, take Dumbledore with you. Goldstein, Miss Nagini is your responsibility. Daly, take Mr Scamander. Wilson, Jones, with me. Scamander, you’re with your sister.”

The groups chose different directions to follow, and silently split. Rose saw that Newt was not really comfortable with having to tag along with someone he didn’t know, but with one shared glance and a smile with Tina, he did follow Jackson Daly down a flight of stairs.

“Do you feel up to checking the tower?” Theseus asked in a whisper as they ascended a flight of stairs so large it put Hogwarts’ own to shame.

Rose, wand raised, lips pursed and heart beating with the adrenaline, nodded. “Lead the way, Auror Scamander.”

He did.

* * *

It soon became quite clear that Nurmengard had been effectively abandoned by Grindelwald and his followers. The rooms they found in the tower – they and Dumbledore and McMillan, who’d gone ahead of them – were all empty, safe for furniture and burnt paper. The lack of dust, though, told them that the castle had been occupied recently. Very recently.

“I think Nagini’s letter might have brought them to leave in a hurry,” Theseus said as they inspected what must have been a bedroom once upon a time, but that was empty except for a desk and an empty bookshelf.

Rose nodded, inspecting a wall that appeared lighter, cleaner than the others. “I’m afraid you are right. Mr Travers won’t be pleased.”

“I’m not either,” he hissed.

When Rose lifted her hand to the wall, and was stopped by a wall of shimmering golden magic, though, it seemed as though they had found something interesting at long last.

Dumbledore and McMillan, having finished their own round, entered the room, and the Professor clocked Rose immediately. He came to stand by her, raising his own wand to the shield, muttering complex spells before he sighed. “Another blood spell. He will never learn…”

McMillan left the room to go find the others, and Theseus got closer, brow set. “What does it want us to do?”

“To provide some of our blood, no doubt,” Dumbledore said with surprising calm considering what he was suggesting.

“He cast a similar spell where he’d hidden Graves away,” Rose muttered before turning her cousin’s namesake. “What if it’s not a coincidence? What if-”

“He knew somehow you’d be there and find this?” Dumbledore’s eyes glistened with interest. “Why?”

“I don’t know…” She turned back to the shield, unsure of what to do. What is a message addressed to her? Or just really a coincidence, an indication that Grindelwald favoured blood magic?

Theseus raised his wand, silently cutting his palm. He didn’t hiss at all, just placed his now blood-soaked hand on the shield. It shimmered golden, but didn’t drop.

Rose, on the other hand, hissed as she hurried to him, cooping his injured hand in hers, glaring at it as if it had personally offended her. “What did you do that for?”

“I gave it blood,” Theseus answered, visibly torn between anger and surprise at her reaction. “It didn’t work anyway…”

“My dear Theseus, you failed to understand Gellert’s intentions…” Dumbledore sighed, and waited until Rose had cast the healing charm on her ‘brother’s’ hand before he dropped a piercing gaze to her. “Miss Rose? May it be that only your blood can open this?”

Theseus hissed again, hand still cradled in Rose’s. “It’s out of the question!”

“Theseus,” she gently called, drawing his gaze to her. “It’s alright.” She turned to Dumbledore again, brow furrowed. “Are you certain that giving him my blood won’t trigger something else?”

“Certain. It’s a simple blood ward.” He seemed impressed that she had even thought of the possible consequences of this.

She nodded, and slowly raised her own wand to cut her palm, as she had done a year prior to save a MACUSA official who should have died.

The shield dropped in a shimmer of red.

* * *

The part of the wall that had been warded vanished along with the spell, revealing a hidden circular room all three of them entered with guarded expressions and raised wands. Theseus kept Rose close, but there wasn’t any threat in sight. The room was empty, as had been the rest of the fortress.

“What in the name of Merlin-?”

Rose turned to see Travers, the rest of his Aurors and Newt enter the room as well, eyes darting to the walls and what had been pinned there for all to see.

Drawing of her face; timelines; pages upon pages of information about her, where she lived, who she spent time with, what she did, what she could do. The room was a shrine to Grindelwald’s obsession with her.

He’d meant for them to find it, it was now clear. He’d meant for _her_ to know that he would not stop until he had her.

Rose slowly moved closer to a photograph she remembered very well: it had been taken on the day of Queenie and Jacob’s wedding. It was a ‘family’ picture, with Tina, Newt, Theseus and herself gathered around the happy couple.

Pinned right under it was a note written in an elegant penmanship. ‘ _Watching you, Miss Rose._ ’

She tore it off the wall, and blasted it into the ground, leaving a scorch mark on the wood.

* * *

“Miss Rose,” Travers said after a moment, voice clipped, lips pursed, eyes dark, “I think you and I need to have a conversation.”

She turned to the Head Auror, head held high, fire raging in her veins as she imagined what she’d do to Grindelwald if he was standing right in front of her. Damn be her Hippocrates oath, she’d _obliterate_ him.

“Let’s go back to the Ministry,” he continued, and Rose realised that everyone – Tina and Nagini having reappeared at the back – was staring at her and no longer at the room’s contents.

Rose shook her head. “No, Mr Travers, let’s do it here and now. Let’s get it over with. Ask away.”

Newt tore away from the group, coming to stand by her, facing the others in a stance that meant he would be on her side no matter what. With a surge of affection towards her brother, she grabbed his left hand and steeled herself.

“Why is it that _Gellert Grindelwald_ has a…room filled with information about _you_? What are you to him?”

Rose knew that any suspicious answer she gave would mean a full interrogation back at the Ministry. She knew Travers could invoke the right to use Veritaserum given the importance of the matter. So she decided, neither for the first nor the last time, to spin a lie with a little truth.

“My parents, my biological parents, that is, knew a lot about Grindelwald. They were…my mother, mostly, invested in what he’s done, what he wants to do. They wanted to bring him down, and knew something that could. He seems to believe that they gave the information to me. When we met in Paris, he wanted to sway me to his side, to use what he thought I knew to his advantage, but I refused. _I refused_ , Mr Travers. I will _never_ join his side. I’d rather _die_ than forsake my mother’s blood!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Dumbledore’s satisfied smirk; and Theseus’ set jaw as his grey-green eyes once again darted around the room, as if his glare alone could set everything on fire.

Travers stared at her silently, his expression closed off, his wand raised. But when he whirled it, it was to destroy the evidence scattered around, and not to arrest her.

“Auror Scamander,” he barked, eyes still set on Rose, “your sister will need to be protected. See to it that your brother’s house is warded and that someone stands guard at all times.”

Theseus, a determined look on his face, nodded without a word.

“Miss Rose,” Travers finished, serious and severe, “I will ask that you don’t leave your house alone, ever. Always make sure there is someone with you. And if you need to go somewhere unaccompanied, notify us so we can send a guard incognito. McMillan,” he hissed then, exiting the room with his men, back into the bulk of the castle.

Newt squeezed Rose’s hand, and didn’t let go until they were back in London…


	36. In which a trip to Brazil is in order

The memory of Nurmengard and what had been hidden there plagued Rose’s nights for weeks on end. The sole thought of Grindelwald having gotten his hands on personal and intimate memories like Queenie and Jacob’s wedding was making her sick to her stomach; and each time she caught sight of the Auror standing guard on a bench in the street, she felt like jinxing something.

Tina and Nagini had explained what they’d found in the dungeons and the reason for their late reunion with the rest of the group. Nurmengard truly was a prison. Grindelwald had locked up those who had ever dared to question or oppose him. Cells upon cells upon cells where men and women rotted, fed and cared for with the bare minimum – though they hadn’t seen a caretaker – but without hope of being freed. Tina had said that the wards on the cells were much more powerful than anything else around the fortress, and that this time, she felt like Grindelwald was the only person who could free these prisoners. They’d had to reluctantly leave them behind.

So now, Rose was on constant surveillance. When she wanted to pay a visit to Theseus and Tina in the Ministry, she had to ask for one of their colleague to come fetch her. When she wanted to go visit Queenie and Jacob, she had to make sure Newt was tagging along. Their Floo Network had been shut, and powerful wards placed on the house, so that any visitor they received had to use the front door. Newt was very displeased with the number of security questions he’d had to create for each of their friends, and had pinned the list to one of the kitchen cupboards to not get confused.

Rose hated this. She hated being watched constantly; she hated why she was being watched; she hated not being able to do whatever she pleased whenever she pleased.

* * *

April was coming to an end when one morning, she received her and Newt’s manuscript back from the editor. She’d made to go to the basement to look at it with him, but was stunned into silence and immobility when she heard his and Theseus’ hushed voices on the stairs.

They were not moving, had probably gone there to be away from Bunty and Nagini’s prying ears; but in doing so, they had given Rose the possibility to eavesdrop.

And although she knew it wasn’t right to do so, she was a Weasley, and Weasleys eavesdropped constantly.

“I’m telling you I don’t want her to come!” Theseus was hissing to his brother.

Newt sighed. Rose was familiar with the sound enough to identify it even through the door. “Rose is not helpless, Theo. She can defend herself.”

“I know that, but it’s too dangerous. He’s _after_ her, she’s in danger every time she steps out the door!”

There was short silence, as if the younger of the two was studying the other. “You care about her.” Theseus must have made a denying gesture, because Newt carried on, stunning Rose further with his observations. “You _do_. You care about her. You’re afraid she’ll get hurt.”

Theseus huffed. “Of course I care. She’s our sister.”

“No,” the magizoologist said quietly, “she’s not. She’s _my_ sister, she’s not yours. You don’t think of her as such, and she doesn’t think of you as her brother either.”

Rose placed a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from gasping. What in Godric’s-? Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, how on Earth could you be so observant?!

“What you are suggesting is stupid, Newt. Even if it was true, even if I- which I don’t, Rose is our sister before law, now. And Leta-”

“Leta died seven months and twenty-four days ago, Theo,” Newt calmly said, an edge of pain in his voice. “You are not betraying her memory.”

“Still, I won’t even consider that possibility. I can’t believe you’ve even mentioned that! It has _nothing_ to do with the problem at hand! Rose _cannot_ come with us if Grindelwald is sighted again.”

“Try telling her that.” Newt chuckled lightly, drawing a small smile from Rose. “There is no stopping her. She’s too much of a Gryffindor for that.” Another silence, a shift of fabric, as if he’d touched his brother. “Tell her, Theseus. Tell her you care. Please.”

Another, sharper shift, as if Theseus had pushed his brother away, and a huff. “Stop it! I don’t! Not like that!” And with two large strides, he was back up the stairs, slamming the door to the hallway open. Rose, thankfully, had moved to hide behind the panel, and waited until she heard the front door slam behind him too to start breathing again.

Suddenly, her and Newt’s book was of no importance at all.

Newt thought Theseus had feelings for her.

And, judging by his brother’s defensive way of denying it, he wasn’t wrong.

* * *

Her contemplation did not last long, however. That same day, after she had finally worked up the courage to face Newt and show him their returned manuscript – there were very little notes and alterations to be made, which they were happy about – Professor Dumbledore showed up at their door.

Rose was the one to greet him, her wand raised as was the Ministry’s wish. She knew Newt’s question for him, and the answer he required, but it was about his time at Hogwarts, and she was rather dazed, that day.

So, instead of asking what form Newt’s Boggart took, she blurted out “What was your sister’s name?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes widened a fraction, piercing through her like an icy dagger, but he still answered, cold and precise, “Her name was Ariana.”

Rose let him in, locking the door behind him and shouting to let Newt know they had company. She led him to the living-room, as per usual, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Do _not_ use that question again, Miss Rose. Please.”

She stared back at him, lips pursed, and nodded. “Sorry. I’m in a strange mood, today.”

Dumbledore seemed to accept the twisted apology, and sighed. “I’m afraid it will not improve.” Newt appeared at the door, surprised to see his friend there on a school day, but his former Professor didn’t waste either their time. “Grindelwald’s been seen. Along with Credence and Vinda Rosier.”

Rose felt the familiar anger rise in her veins, and she gripped the wood of her wand tighter, as if itching to have the Dark Wizard in front of her to curse. “Where?”

“Rio de Janeiro,” Dumbledore answered, surprising both siblings.

“Brazil?” Newt asked dumbly. “What is there for him?”

“More supporters. Most of the wizarding population in Brazil is made of Purebloods. The Ministry thinks he’s going to host another rally there.”

“Who’s going?” Rose asked immediately.

“I’m not sure yet,” the blue-eyed wizard said, gesturing them to sit down, as if they were in his office rather than in their own home. “I want you to go too, though. Newt, you’ve proved twice now that you are more than capable of finding and countering Grindelwald. Rose, we both know why you have to go.” He stared at her intently, having dropped the ‘Miss’ once again. “Your presence might destabilize him. He might make mistakes trying to find you. It could give us an advantage.”

“You mean to use me as bait,” she surmised, pursing her lips once again. She wasn’t happy about it, doubted anyone could be happy about being used in such a way, but she saw the logic in it. She nodded. “Fine. I’d go anyway, but fine.”

“Thank you,” the Professor said, before turning to Newt once more. “Just in case, I’ve thought of a subterfuge to explain your presence in Brazil. So that locals don’t immediately understand that you are there because Grindelwald is too. Could we arrange some fake book-signings in several cities of South America?”

Newt’s eyes widened, as if the very idea of his book being known on another continent was preposterous. But still, he answered “If you’re certain it’ll work.”

“I am.” Dumbledore then stood. “I’m going to meet Torquil at the Ministry. Will you come with me?”

Rose’s brow furrowed until she understood that ‘Torquil’ was Mr Travers’ first-name. It wasn’t surprising that Dumbledore used it so familiarly.

Newt nodded immediately, heading to the basement once more. “Let me just give instructions to the girls, and I’ll be right there!”

“Actually,” the future Headmaster said, looking deep in thought, “if Nagini feels up to it, I think she should come too.”

There was more implied there than ‘just’ coming to the Ministry. He wanted her to go to Brazil with them. Rose understood what it meant. Nagini too would be used as bait. She’d be Credence’s bait.

She was starting to realise just how calculating Albus Dumbledore was, and wasn’t sure she liked it all that much…

* * *

An hour and three cups of tea later, Rose, Newt and Nagini were still sitting around a table, watching Mr Travers and Dumbledore fight it off with ample gestures and raised voices.

Theseus, Tina and McMillan were present as well, standing by the door, showcasing various degrees of discontent.

Rose understood Travers’ arguments. This was a job of top-notch Aurors. Grindelwald was not to be meddled with, especially when he was in possession of the Elder Wand – although nobody except for Dumbledore appeared to give that more than a passing thought – and neither Newt nor she had received the proper training to fight someone like him.

But she could see Dumbledore’s point, too. Grindelwald was cocky. He was persuaded that he was doing the right thing, for ‘the Greater Good’, and thought everyone inferior to him. He’d counter them with little preparation, confident in his own extensive abilities to end their lives. He wouldn’t see them coming.

But Rose still doubted that they stood a chance.

“I’ll say it again, in case you haven’t understood the first time, Dumbledore!” Travers was hissing, his accent more prominent when he was angered like that. “I refuse to rely entirely on civilians for something as important as this! The Ministry would be the laughing stock of all other law enforcements around the bloody world!”

Dumbledore shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Haven’t you heard me the last four times I said that’s why I want Theseus and Tina to go with them?”

Travers growled, startling Nagini, who sought out Tina’s hand to hold. Rose was surprised that the wizard hadn’t drawn out his wand yet. Despite the obvious foul mood his ‘guest’ had put him in; he was still in control of his temper. Interesting. “Two. Two against who knows how many?! You’re insane!”

The argument had revolved around the same topic for the past hour, repeated over and over again, neither party letting the subject drop, neither letting the other gain ground.

In the end, surprisingly, it was Newt who provided the solution. “If I may,” he said calmly during one rare silence, eyes affixed to the teacup in front of him, “we could ask for the help of the Brazilian Ministry.”

Silence. A beat. Two. Then Dumbledore let out a ‘Ha!” that made everybody jump in surprise. “You are brilliant, Newton, as usual! Travers,” he turned back to his main problem that day, “he’s right. The mission is too important to let anything down to chance. It’d be conspicuous if a group of Aurors suddenly appeared in Brazil without reason. If Newt and Rose pretend to go to Rio for a book-signing, then Nagini can go as Newt’s assistant; Theseus as their older brother in dire need of holidays; and Tina…” he trailed off, earning himself an annoyed huff from said Tina; but everyone had gotten his meaning: she’d go as Newt’s girlfriend.

“Then we’ll report to the Brazilian Ministry, as is mandatory anyway,” continued Newt, looking as if he wasn’t at the Ministry as all but rather at home, lounging in front of a good book. “They’ll give us protection, too. Nothing will be suspicious.”

Travers stared between Dumbledore and Newt, again and again, before chuckling darkly, wiping a hand over his face. “Sometimes, I wonder why you are not standing in my shoes, Dumbledore.” He sighed. “Fine. Do it your way. I’ll request an international Portkey as soon as possible.” He turned to the three civilians he’d so opposed going. “Get ready to leave as soon as I tell you.”

Rose nodded solemnly, but before the matter was finally put to rest, Theseus took a step forward, making his boss look at him curiously. “Sir, I don’t think Rose should go.”

Dumbledore sighed, and Newt raised his gaze to his brother, brow furrowed. Rose dropped her own gaze to her lap, refusing to let anyone see the blush that crept to her cheeks when she replayed the conversation she’d heard that very morning.

“Why not?” Travers asked, visibly puzzled.

“Grindelwald is looking for her. You know that.”

“I’m sure that your sister is aware of the risks. She hasn’t opposed her going so far, so I believe she is not unwilling to participate. Am I wrong, Miss Rose?”

Forced to look up, she schooled her features, but still avoided looking at Theseus. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say. “I’m aware that I’ll essentially be bait. But if it can ensure that Grindelwald is behind bars sooner rather than later,” – _literally_ – “then I’m willing to go.”

Theseus stomped, shoving his hands in his pockets before he strode out of the room.

Travers looked after him, stunned. “Well… He is rather worried.”

Newt stood, helping Rose to her feet and keeping her hand in his. “As are we all. Thank you, Mr Travers. We should go and start packing.”

He squeezed Rose’s hand on their way out, which prompted her to look up at him. His green eyes were staring ahead while Tina, on his other side, was staring at her too. Something in her brown eyes told Rose that she was starting to suspect something strange was afoot.

But the magizoologist kept silent all the way to the lifts. And there, in the safety of the crowded space where only Tina and Nagini could hear him, he told Rose “He was like that with Leta, too…”

It almost made her panic.


	37. In which Rio de Janeiro is stifling hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with two brand-new chapters! Today, we are heading to Brazil! I tried my best to emulate what it looked like in the 1920s by looking at photos and imagining what the wizarding side might have been like. I hope it'll be a detailed-enough picture that you can see our friends heading there in the story. ;)

The gang – minus Yusuf and Theseus – soon gathered at the Scamander house, and Rose was finally made aware of the real reason for Tina’s foul mood. She’s cornered her sister as soon as Queenie and Jacob had stepped inside the living-room, had grabbed her hands and, brow furrowed, she’d told her everything about the earlier meeting.

“I’m sure Mr Travers will let you two come as well,” the brunette said at long last. “You could pretend it’s part of the honeymoon you never had.”

Rose realised then: Tina didn’t want to leave her sister behind. She was angry that Queenie hadn’t even been _mentioned_ back at the Ministry. And it made total sense, too.

The blonde surprised them all, though, when instead of nodding or agreeing in any way with her older sister, she shook her head with a giggle that Jacob surprisingly mirrored a few seconds later. “No, Teens, it’s actually better for us to stay here…” She turned to Newt, eyes glistening with an emotion Rose couldn’t place at first. “We can take care of your roommates, Newt, help Bunty out. Jacob loves doing it, and he hasn’t been able to for a while.”

“But, Queens,” Tina said, trailing off when her sister freed one hand to place on her stomach.

Nagini understood before anyone else, and gasped delightfully.

“I’m pregnant,” Queenie said then, a grin splitting her lovely face in two as Jacob started giggling again.

The following minutes were spent hugging, congratulating and laughing. Tina’s mood was lifted immediately by the prospect of being an aunt; but Rose couldn’t help but feeling a bit uneasy about her closest friend not coming with them to Brazil…

“It’ll be alright, darlin’,” Queenie said, having probably overheard her thoughts. She came closer, her smile still as magnificent as two minutes prior, and Rose imitated her without realising. “You’ll be in safe hands.”

And Rose hugged her tight once more. “I’m so happy for you, Queens.”

The blonde giggled again, and then, Newt said, looking as serious as ever, “I just hope this child of yours takes after its mother.”

Jacob’s outraged ‘Hey!’ made everyone laugh harder.

* * *

It took Travers three days to get the Portkey. Only one for Dumbledore to hand Newt the ‘schedule’ of his book-signings. And probably less than an hour for Rose to feel like she was once again running head-first into a trap.

Brazil being much hotter a country than England, she’d packed lighter clothes, mainly white, and decided to wear a thin pair of light blue cotton trousers with a white blouse. Nobody was really surprised to see her forgo wearing a dress, but Tina smirked when she assessed her attire all the same.

Queenie, Jacob, Yusuf, Bunty and Dumbledore had come to see them off at the Ministry. Newt’s smitten assistant had been given a notebook filled with instructions, and was cradling it to her chest as if it was the most precious gift she’d ever been given. Yusuf exchanged a few words with Theseus and Tina; and Dumbledore wished them all luck.

Then, after the usual hugging session, all five of them gathered around a battered pan that grabbed them around their navel and pulled them, yet again, to another continent…

The first thing that Rose clocked upon landing was the stifling heat. The second thing was the loud, very loud buzz of conversation and activities around them all. They’d landed in the wizarding part of Rio, but it still looked like an overcrowded Trafalgar Square on Remembrance Day.

Left and right, people buzzed about, waving potion supplies or wands in the air, shouting prices in Brazilian Portuguese. Some people, apparently unbothered by the crowd, weaved around them to accost those who sold something of interest to them. None of them seemed encumbered by the heat.

“Merlin,” Tina swore a second later, “it’s horrifyingly warm…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn black, Teens,” Rose chastised her friend, who’d refused to change her colour-pattern. Tina glared at her playfully, but a wave of her wand and a chilling charm later, she appeared much more at ease.

Rose found her idea a stellar one, and applied the same charm upon herself, then Nagini, who looked at her gratefully. The young woman was not as relaxed as the others looked. She was never really comfortable with crowded areas, and this was a really crowded area.

“ _Abernathy!_ ” Theseus then hissed, drawing out his wand and turning to the crowd.

Everyone mirrored him, searching through the sea of people for the short American. Newt was the first to spot him, but Rose soon did too.

It was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He was weaving through the crowd, jaw set as he pushed people to and fro to reach his destination. Apparently, the pavement, though it was invisible in such a crowd.

He hadn’t seen them. Which Tina immediately thought suspicious.

“If he was standing there, then he surely has seen us arrive. A Portkey landing isn’t exactly discreet.”

Theseus nodded his assent. “Yeah, he must have seen us.” He was gritting his teeth, but lowered his wand. “Chance that he might have been waiting for us?”

Rose shook her head, eyes glued to where the former MACUSA official had vanished in what looked like a café. “I think he wants us to follow him in there…”

Theseus turned his gaze to her, hard and almost cold. “See what I meant? We’ve barely landed and they’re already trying to get us into a trap!”

She glared back, unafraid to show her anger. “They’d have tried to lure you into a trap if I hadn’t been there, too! Stop being such a moron!” She sharply turned to Tina, who was regarding her with wide surprised eyes. “What do we do?”

“Well,” Newt answered in her stead, “obviously we can’t follow him. It undoubtedly _is_ a trap.”

Tina nodded. “Yes, let’s ignore it. At least we know they really _are_ here. Let’s go to the Ministry first. We can’t risk it without having backup.”

Theseus, who was still glaring at Rose, snarled. “ _Fine._ Let’s go.”

* * *

The Brazilian Ministry’s entrance lay at the bottom of the Morro da Babilônia, one of the three well-known peaks towering over Rio. From far away, Rose caught a glimpse of the Cristo Redentor, which wasn’t finished yet. It was a bit surreal, because she was so used to seeing pictures of it in all its glory. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it.

Sculpted into the granite, a little way from the tourists’ entrance to the cable-cars leading to the Sugarloaf Mountain, was the face of a winged serpent. Tina, after checking the notes Travers had given her, placed her hand on the head of the snake, and phased through the rock after looking back at her friends.

One by one, they imitated her. Not knowing if the magic in Nagini’s veins would allow her through, Rose held her hand while they entered.

Just like the British Ministry of Magic, the Brazilian counterpart, despite being built underground, was lit with artificial light coming from fake windows. The decorating style of its Atrium differed greatly from what the Brits – and American – all knew, though. Obviously inspired by its European roots, the Brazilians had used mosaics to represent one of Brazil’s most famous landscapes: the Amazonian jungle. While, in London, the fountain depicted magical fraternity through different races, here, the main fountain made its water run through luxurious plants before falling down and following its course to two smaller fountains where glittered jewels.

Colourful parrots flew overhead to deliver messages, and Rose was astonished to see so many blue macaws when, in her time, they were an endangered species.

Most people buzzing about were men, dark haired and eyed; but the person they found at the information desk was, unsurprisingly, a woman. What was more surprising was the fairer tint of her hair, and her green eyes. Rose thought she might have been of mixed heritage.

The witch scanned them all with a perfunctory smile, before saying “ _Bem-vindo ao Ministério da Magia. Como posso ajudá-lo?_ ” Obviously, none of them spoke Portuguese, and she noticed their confusion immediately, her smile straining as she repeated in broken English, “Welcome to the Ministary da Magic. How I help?”

Theseus stepped forward, clearing his throat. “We’re from England, reporting our presence as tourists.”

The woman’s brow furrowed, but her smile didn’t dim. “ _Turistas?_ ” When Theseus nodded, she turned to a huge book of admission, no doubt, and placed it on top of the counter, pointing at a line with a quill. “Sign name here.”

Theseus wordlessly did it, slipping a letter on top of the book for the witch to take. She was visibly surprised, but opened the envelope all the same. The eldest Scamander had been given it by Travers. It was written in Portuguese, and disclosed the real reason for their visit.

As he handed his brother the quill for Newt to sign the book, the witch’s brow furrowed, and then, she turned to the macaw waiting on a perch behind her desk, handing it the letter and the name of the person it had to carry it to. Then, she nodded solemnly at Theseus, who looked visibly relieved. So far, so good.

Tina signed the book after Newt, then handed Rose the quill. The red-head approached the book and mirrored what information had been put down by her friends previously. ‘Nome: Rose Scamander. Nacionalidade: English. Objetivo da visita: Book-signing.’

Someone had approached the group as she was writing, holding Travers’ letter. It was a tall, black-haired man with hazel eyes and a bright smile. He marched towards Theseus immediately, and offered him a hand to shake.

“Welcome, Mr Scamander,” he said jovially, with a lovely accent peeking through. “My name is Joao Santos, I’m a Caçador. An Auror, if you want. I will help you during your visit.”

Theseus nodded, and introduced each member of their party. Rose, having done her part, handed Nagini the quill, and while the young Maledictus wrote down her own name, she met the man’s eyes.

His gaze brightened immediately as he clocked her face, then studied her attire before glancing up at her once more. His smile widened into a grin, and the hint of flirtation rose into his expression as he grasped her offered hand and lowered a kiss onto her knuckles.

“This is my…sister, Miss Rose Scamander,” Theseus was saying in an edgy tone, but Rose couldn’t think on it right then. Joao’s gaze was too captivating.

“Miss Rose,” the Brazilian Auror almost purred, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She couldn’t help it, she blushed.

Well, then. Brazil wasn’t so bad, after all…


	38. In which Rose opens up to people

Their Brazilian carer guided the gang through the intricate maze of Rio’s streets, and into a more residential part of town. Over there, the buildings looked much more ‘modern’, or ‘Occidental’ should be the right term. There was a spot of French architecture into the lines; and of American rigour for the lack of flourishes on the façades.

Joao brought them to a building that he announced was a hotel for magical people. Muggles, or ‘Non-Magicals’ as he used the American vocable, saw an old building with a fallen roof and burnt down interior.

After they’d checked in and taken possession of the two bedrooms they had been allocated, the group of friends gathered, minus their new companion, in Newt and Theseus’ room. Nagini went to sit on one of the two beds and hugged herself, visibly more than uncomfortable about being there. As usual in those cases, Tina went to sit by her to offer comfort, and Rose joined them with a small smile for the Maledictus.

Theseus sat on one of the two chairs, and Newt remained standing, eyes trailed on the walls and décor, as if trying to make sense of any of it.

“So,” the eldest sibling started, drawing everyone’s attention, “what now?”

Rose looked at Newt. “We have a book-signing tomorrow in the city. 10 am. But you and Tina are not obligated to stay. You could….visit.” She put an emphasis on the word, to signify that ‘visiting’, for her, meant ‘searching’.

Theseus met her gaze and pursed his lips. “I don’t want to leave you three alone in a strange place.”

“Me neither,” added Tina, to cut short the annoyed answer that Rose had ready. The brunette seemed to know what she had prevented, too, for her dark eyes were trailed on her red-headed friend with a pointed look. “I think it better if we stay together at all times.”

Newt nodded absent-mindedly. “Yes, better, no doubt.”

Theseus sighed, eyes going to the walls as well, trailing on the abstract representation of Rio itself. “Do any of you think Abernathy might have been here alone? To make us believe they’re all here?”

Rose shook her head immediately, mirrored soon after by Nagini and Tina. It was the black-haired woman who answered, though, surprisingly. She usually remained silent unless spoken to. “They’re here. Don’t ask me why, but I can feel Credence is close.”

Newt, at that, turned to her, his usual magizoologist’s curiosity letting itself known. “Is it one of your abilities? Can you always feel other cursed people around you?”

Her dark eyes met his, almost apologetically. “No, I’m sorry, Newt. Just him.”

Tina squeezed her hand tighter. Rose understood the gesture. Nagini’s bond with Credence had been forged through necessity, but their mutual trust and affection for one another had strengthened it. Who were they to question her on her instincts when weirder things happened every day?

Newt seemed disappointed, but didn’t add anything.

“Fine, then,” Theseus continued, lips pursed and severe look in his eyes. “Tonight, we’ll go to dinner in the lobby. Tomorrow, book-signing. Tina and I will monitor those who come into the venue, just in case. But we stick together. All the time. No exceptions.”

He said that last part while staring at Rose, who couldn’t stop herself from adding a snarky remark. “Even when we have to go to the restrooms? That will be tiresome…”

He glared at her, but didn’t add anything before standing. “I’ll go check where we’ll be eating tonight.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” snapped Newt immediately. His brother stopped at the door but didn’t turn around. “You have to abide by your own rules, Theo.”

“I’ll go with him,” Nagini offered, letting go of Tina with a grateful smile. “I need some air.”

Theseus nodded and waited until their dark-haired friend had joined him to exit the room, leaving Newt, Tina and Rose alone.

* * *

Tina was the first to sigh. “Well, he surely is protective.”

Newt nodded, taking a seat on the opposite bed to face them. “Too much, sometimes.”

The Auror nodded, before turning to Rose with a small cheeky smile. “So, what was that all about? With that Joao guy?”

Rose met her gaze, her own wide in surprise. “What…what do you mean?”

“Well, he was visibly taken with you from the moment he saw you…” Rose grunted, and Tina’s smile turned more contemplative. “You should get to know him, you know. He may be a good guy. Someone you’d like to spend time with.”

“Rose is in love with Theseus,” Newt blurted out, as a way to stop Tina’s meddling, but succeeding instead in making his sister blush to the roots of her hair and shaking her head, although incapable of articulating a single word.

To her astonishment, however, Tina didn’t appear surprised at all by the claim, and carried on as if it was a normal topic. “I know that, but that doesn’t mean that she has to patiently wait for him to love her back. She can keep her eyes and heart open in case someone better comes along.”

“Theseus already loves her. He just doesn’t want to say it,” Newt answered in the same matter-of-factly tone.

Rose, this time, managed to counter with “Oh, stop talking as if I wasn’t in the room! And Theseus doesn’t love me like that! He’ll _never_ love me like that!”

Tina glared at Newt, as if angry with him for talking about Theseus at all, and she grabbed Rose’s hand. “Rosie, you have to remain open to love, you know! Waiting for a man to make a move can be exhausting enough without pushing away those who are actually trying to get your attention…”

Rose still shook her head. “Tina, we’re here only for a little while. I can’t possibly enter whatever relationship with a man I barely know just to try and move on from what I feel…”

The Auror sighed, having apparently accepted defeat. That is, until she said “Whatever hurt you in your past, you need to let it go, honey…”

The past. Rose met her friend’s gaze, and the full stupidity of the situation hit her like a freight train _. The past._ She had never told Tina the truth. She’d told Newt immediately; Queenie without really meaning to; Jacob by proxy; Dumbledore because he could help; Theseus when she first met him; and Leta, eventually. But she had never told Tina. And now, she was regretting it.

With a pointed glance towards Newt, Rose fully turned towards her friend and took both her hands. “Teens. I’m so sorry I haven’t told you before, but…there is something about me that you need to know.” The brunette’s eyes widened, but she nodded, letting Rose start her tale with a shaky voice. “You see, I wasn’t really born in 1905…”

* * *

Almost an hour later, and before Theseus and Nagini came back from wherever they’d gone to, Tina had buried Rose under a hug of such magnitude that the younger witch had to ask her to release her, unless she wanted her dead by asphyxiation.

“Rosie, I’m…I’m…” Tina faltered, tears gathering in her eyes, as rare as that was. “’Sorry’ doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it. I can’t _believe_ I’ve done something so cruel! To _you_! I’m…I’m a…I’m a _monster_!”

“No,” Newt cut in, kneeling in front of his would-be lover and taking one of her hands while Rose still held the other. “No, you’re not. The Tina who did that will never exist, because Rose did what she had to. Queenie never joined Grindelwald. She’s safe, she’s home, and she’s going to have a baby. It wasn’t you. It won’t be you.”

Perhaps it was the determination in his green eyes, perhaps it was the fire with which he’d spoken, but Tina slowly nodded, wiping her tears away before drawing Rose into another hug, uttering her apologies again and again and again.

At that moment, the door swung open, revealing the rest of their small gang, plus their Brazilian guide.

Joao’s eyes searched the room until they found Rose, and he smiled widely, the same hint of flirtation in his gaze as he announced, with little care for Tina’s obvious distress, “There’s going to be a ball!”

Which made Newt, Rose and Tina start in surprise.

Theseus, having clocked their quizzical expressions, and their guide’s apparent unwillingness to explain further, took it upon himself to elaborate. “A very powerful Brazilian Pureblood family is hosting a ball tomorrow night. The local Ministry believes that Grindelwald or his followers might make an appearance to try and rally some of the guests to their cause. I agree.”

Newt rose from the floor, nodding with a pointed glance at the painted wall again. “It would be a good idea to attend.”

“But how?” Rose cut in. “We can’t invite ourselves to a party hosted by people we don’t know!”

Joao smiled at her, winking as he answered “The eldest daughter is set to come to your book-signing tomorrow morning. You just have to make sure that you get invited after that.”

Newt’s brow furrowed, then he turned to his sister. “We will have a greater chance of that if you do the talking, then, Rose. I’m not that good with being interesting.”

“That,” she countered, clocking Tina’s amused smirk, “is a big fat lie, but I’ll let it slide.” She chuckled before looking back at their guide, whose smile had turned into a look of wonder when she’d laughed. She found it charming. “I’ll do my best to get us invitations.”

“You’ll have no trouble there, Miss Rose,” Joao said with another wink, before turning back to Theseus and bowing the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good evening to you!”

Theseus was let courteous when he answered back, but Rose was actually starting to think that Tina was right: maybe getting to know Joao wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

* * *

In the end, it took Rose less than five minutes to get invited to the Silvas’ ball. Adriana Silva, their eldest daughter who’d come get Newt’s book and signature, only caught a glimpse of her before she decided that she was her new best friend.

Her English was broken, but enthusiasm and gestures were making communication easier. When Rose asked if her friends could come with her, Adriana didn’t even flinch and grinned widely before announcing ‘Of course!’ with a cute rolling of the ‘r’.

So there they were. The Silvas owned a mansion on the outskirts of Rio. Their garden ended in a private beach on which most of their guests Apparated, including the gang, who Joao had tailed, obviously posting as their interpret.

It quickly appeared that the ‘ball’ would be hosted in every single room of the ground floor. The entrance hall was filled with people holding champagne glasses – maybe the 1920s was a time when even wizarding families favoured champagne – while the fining-room had been transformed into a ballroom in the corner of which sat instruments that played on their own, an old wizard sitting by waving his wand at the end of one song to start another.

Rose walked up front, having been formally invited first. She was greeted by Adriana who introduced her to her parents, neither of which spoke English, apparently, and two younger siblings, a boy named Fernando and a girl named Ana. She was talking in a quick and animated Portuguese, pointing at Newt every now and then no doubt to explain who he was. Both parents bowed the head respectfully at their impromptu guests, and the group moved to the ballroom to try and locate someone they knew.

Rose let out a breath as soon as she’d grabbed a glass of what wasn’t champagne at all, but Giggle Water in copious amounts. After taking a small sip, she noticed Theseus’ tense stance newt to her, while Tina and Newt were taking a turn of the room and Joao had already pulled poor unwilling Nagini onto the dancefloor.

“Do you think they’ve used Polyjuice?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“It’s a possibility,” he answered, lips pursed and gaze hard.

Rose sighed, glancing up at him and clocking his unease. She knew him better then, she knew that he usually was this tense when on a mission; but he’d acted like this when in private too, when he visited her and Newt. She didn’t like it one bit. “Are you really _that_ angry, Theseus?”

“Angry about what?” he asked, dropping his grey-green eyes to her.

“About my coming here.”

His gaze was aflame then, with anger and a worry and a determination that she’d never think she’d ever see directed her way. “Of course I am really angry about that, Rose! You’re putting everyone at risk!”

She huffed. “No, I’m not. _He_ ’d try to harm you if I wasn’t there too. And don’t try to deny it. By the way, I feel much safer here with all of you than I’d feel if I’d stayed home alone.”

He didn’t back down. “You’d have been protected by Aurors, day and night.”

“People I don’t know and don’t trust,” she hissed. “Don’t ask that of me. And stop acting as if I was a porcelain doll unable to defend itself.”

He leaned down, almost as if he was trying to frighten her. “You’re a Healer, Rose, _not_ a fighter.”

Stomping and turning from him, she ended the ‘conversation’ with a “Then you don’t know me as well as you imagine.” She saw Tina and Newt from afar, and decided to join them, leaving a still fuming Theseus behind. She didn’t care.

* * *

Before she could reach her brother and her friend, though, she was stopped by a familiar grin. Joao had finished dancing with Nagini, whose beauty had apparently appealed to another wizard who was leading her on the dancefloor. She seemed a bit more relaxed, but not extremely so.

“Miss Rose, care to dance?” the flirtatious Auror asked, and she sighed, thinking that dancing would perhaps help her forget the stupidity Theseus had just displayed. Nodding, she took his hand, and he gently led her into a gentle sway back and forth.

The music now resembled a fado, prompting the couples to stop waltzing and to adjust to the slower tempo. Rose thought it looked like slow-dancing, something that wouldn’t be invented for another couple of decades; but she enjoyed the familiarity all the same.

With a hand on her waist and the other holding hers, Joao looked like one of the happiest people on Earth. Rose blushed without meaning to, and he smiled wider even, if that was possible. “You truly are a woman of great beauty, Miss Rose,” he said in a secretive tone.

Blushing deeper still, she looked away from him. “Thank you.”

“I wish you could stay in Brazil for a while longer,” he added, making her look at him again.

“You do?”

He nodded, his smile softening. “I must look like a man who likes to flirt. And I do. Everyone in Brazil likes it.” She chuckled, and he did the same. “But I really want to know you better.”

It made Rose think about Tina’s words the previous day. That she needed to let go of her past and to start living. She knew the chance of her going back to the 2020s were next to nil, now, but somehow, she had started to make peace with it. And to be honest, she wasn’t so sure she’d want to go back. If anything, she’d rather pull her family into a time portal and bring them here…

Joao was letting her think. He wasn’t pushing her to know what her thoughts were about, or overly toward. She appreciated it. It was nice to be treated this nicely by an attractive man. She couldn’t deny that 21st century men were not always that gentlemanly. Far from it.

At long last, she stopped their dancing, and with a smile, she asked “Would you accompany me outside? I feel like walking through the gardens.”

His smile was dazzling, and he let himself be led away. Rose didn’t try to locate any of her friends. She wanted to be alone with a lovely man, just for a few moments…

* * *

The Silvas’ gardens were amazing. Palm trees had been planted to offer some shade, but most of the flowers and plants they encountered were of Western origin. Rose was struck then by the fact that Latin Americans – or at least Brazilian Purebloods – seemed to look as European as they could. As if their own culture was shameful. She hoped it changed soon…

They found a stone bench near a trickling fountain at the back of the gardens, and sat down, Joao handing her a glass of Giggle Water as they did so.

It wasn’t awkward. Rose wondered why it wasn’t.

“So, Miss Rose,” he started after taking a sip, “are you one of these modern women who have a job, or are you a stay-at-home witch?”

Rose met his mischievous gaze. She felt like he already knew the answer and told him so. “I think you are already aware of what I do, Auror Santos.” He chuckled. “I’m a stay-at-home Healer. I help my brother Newt with his creatures, and we have written a book together.”

He nodded, visibly impressed. “So a female Healer, and a writer. Truly remarkable.” His smile turned a bit sad. “My sister Lucia wanted to become a Healer too, but our parents refused. She’s married now, and I think my brother-in-law lets her study healing when no one is looking…”

Rose’s own gaze softened. “You have a sister?”

“Three,” he said with a smile. “Maria is the eldest. Then there’s me. Lucia is one year younger than me. Juliana is still attending Castelobruxo.”

“Castelobruxo is your wizarding school, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It means ‘wizarding castle’. Better than your ‘Hog’s warts’, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that followed. “I can’t deny that it has a nicer ring to it…”

Joao stared at her, as if in awe of her laugh. “Do you and the Scamanders have other siblings?”

She shook her head slowly. “No, we don’t. But before I was adopted into their family, I had a younger brother. Hugo.”

He looked surprised. “You were adopted? I thought…I thought-”

“You thought I was their biological sister?” He nodded. “No, I’m not. Don’t let the ginger hair fool you.” She smiled, contemplative. “I lost my family. My parents and brother. Newt adopted me into his own as if I’d been asking him for paper and quill…”

“You do look a bit alike,” Joao confirmed. “But you appear to be very close.”

“We are,” she said in a smile. “He’s the best big brother I could ever have had.”

“Do you like Rio, so far?” he asked then, changing the subject as if fearing an end to their companionable conversation.

Rose pondered, and chuckled a bit. “It’s too warm for me. Far too humid. But other than that, it’s a truly beautiful place.” She silently wondered if the infamous favelas of Sao Paulo were already as horrifyingly poor as they were a century later. Maybe Rio wasn’t as beautiful as she thought, then…

Joao chuckled too. “I’ve been to England once. It’s far too cold for me. And too much rain.”

They both laughed at that. Rose was at ease, and continued on her path to know this man better. “Have you always wanted to be an Auror?”

“A Caçador?” he looked at the sky, lost in thought. “Not always, no. After what happened in Europe, that War…” he sighed. “I suppose I wanted to make sure my family was safe. No one could fight; not my father, who’s a Potion Master; not my brothers-in-law who are all in business. So I became Caçador to be able to protect them.”

“That’s a…very commendable choice.”

“And you? Always wanted to be a Healer?”

She smiled. “I have. My parents? Not so much. My mother would have wanted me to become an Auror – female Aurors are more common in England than female Healers – and my father wanted me to play Quidditch. But I always knew I’d be a Healer.”

“You played Quidditch?” Joao’s hazel eyes were wide with wonder. “What post did you play?”

She smiled proudly. “Chaser.”

“I was a Keeper.” He smiled softly. “Maybe one day England and Brazil will be against each other in the World Cup, and we’ll attend together.”

Rose’s smile turned fonder. She’d attended the 2014 World Cup Final with her family, of course. The one during which her mother’s ex-boyfriend, infamous Viktor Krum, had given Bulgaria its first win. Brazil had lost, but the team’s play had been flawless. “Maybe,” she whispered.

Joao kept looking at her as if she was a dream come true. And she had to admit that he truly was an amazing man. Kind, brave, family-oriented, funny… It struck her then that he was probably wondering whether or not he could kiss her. And in the same moment, she realised that _not once_ had she needed to spin lies during their conversation. She’d been entirely honest.

Maybe that’s why she leaned in too…

* * *

“I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous!”

Rose and Joao started away from each other. She blushed, feeling like a little kid caught by her parents. With a twinge of regret, though, for she had really wanted to kiss Joao.

“They won’t ssee anything, they’re too sstupid!”

That voice. The hissing sounds of consonants pronounced with a forked tongue. Rose had heard it once before.

_Abernathy._

She put a finger to her lips, and Joao nodded. They both tried to identify where the voices came from, and saw two silhouettes, hidden in darkness, that were walking away from the mansion. They didn’t look like Vinda Rosier and James Abernathy, which confirmed her earlier suspicions that they’d used Polyjuice. Their voices, though, were unaltered.

“Jusst our luck that _they_ had to be here…” the former MACUSA official hissed again.

Rosier growled. “He suspected it. No matter. These Purebloods will be easily rallied. If not here today, then somewhere else tomorrow…”

Abernathy hissed, and Rose pictured him using his lizard tongue as a snake. “I hope you are right… I really want a piecce of Goldsstein…”

“Patience, my friend,” the French woman said as they got further and further away. “Patience. One day, they’ll come to us. And we’ll have fun then.”

Their hushed voices faded in the night, until Rose heard the unmistakeable ‘pop’ of two people Disapparating.

She turned to Joao. Forgotten was their moment or their almost-kiss. Instead, they both stood from the bench, determined and serious.

“Let’s go,” the Auror said. The only sign that anything romantic might have happened between the two of them was that he grabbed her hand…


	39. In which Credence makes a mistake

As soon as Rose and Joao had gathered the rest of the gang and announced grimly what they had been privy to in the gardens, they said their goodbyes and went back to the hotel, choosing the men’s room as a meeting-room.

Theseus was pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath from time to time. Joao had summoned one of his superiors, a tall, dark-haired and heavily wrinkled man with whom he was talking in quick Portuguese near the door. Newt was watching his brother, brow furrowed. Nagini was looking deep in thought, fists closed tight as if she was determined to do something. Tina and Rose were conversing quietly, sitting on one of the beds.

“Abernathy wants to end you himself,” Rose hissed, angry beyond belief that that snake of a man would dare even considering harming her friend.

Tina sighed. “I’d expected it. We weren’t really more than civil when I worked under his orders. He must have been quite enraged when I became an Auror again. He never made it himself…”

“Just…be careful,” the red-head continued. “He’ll maybe try to corner you or something. Don’t go anywhere on your own.”

Tina smirked. “Rose, I doubt that, if Abernathy manages to ‘corner me’, he’ll be the one getting out alive. I’m an Auror, and he was the Head of the Wand Permit Office. Guess who, between the two of us, has learned the most jinxes and curses?”

Rose sighed. “Grindelwald must have taught them some things.”

At that Tina’s air turned sombre. “How I wish that Dumbledore had already broken this stupid blood-pact! Then he’d take care of it and we’d be at peace…”

Rose turned her gaze to Nagini, reminded of what she would one day become. “For a time at least…”

“Don’t think like that,” her friend chastised her. “Hope is nice, you know…”

At that, Rose smiled a little. She didn’t really want to elaborate on why she was persuaded that Grindelwald’s fall wouldn’t mean the end of troubles…at all…

* * *

A few minutes later, Joao’s superior left the room, bidding them goodbye in Portuguese. The Brazilian Auror then started explaining what had been discussed and decided. The Brazilian Ministry had decided that the threat of a rally was too severe to just sit back and wait. Groups of Aurors would be sent around the country to watch each Pureblood family that could be contacted by Grindelwald’s followers. If it ever looked like a rally would happen at one’s home or other, then the whole contingent would swarm the place to nip it in the bud.

The strategy was sound, if not a bit too passive to Theseus and Tina’s tastes. They were both prone to action before thought, and they feared that Grindelwald would remain invisible to the Aurors’ eyes.

Still, they agreed to it. Theseus announced that he would go to the Brazilian Ministry the following day to monitor things, make sure every Pureblood family in Brazil was really being watched, and to check if there was any news. They all thought that, after the fiasco at the Silvas’, Grindelwald wouldn’t wait too long to try and strike again.

Newt had a book-signing the following afternoon, in Brazilia itself. Tina would accompany him, Nagini and Rose as a bodyguard of sorts, and Joao said he’d provide them with a guide who spoke English.

It seemed like, once again, they’d have to sit down and wait for something interesting to happen, and that made Rose’s skin crawl more than the anticipation of an incoming confrontation…

* * *

The morning after, everyone was quite tense. The previous night, although supposed to have been some kind of stress-relief, had had the opposite effect: if anything, it’d made each member of their strange group even more on edge.

Nagini, especially, appeared to have slept the least. She looked haggard, not really there, and she didn’t answer any of Tina’s enquiries, merely shrugged and continued getting dressed, dark eyes miles away.

Theseus had left early, not seeing them off, but Joao was there when they reached the lobby, a tall, blonde man next to him. The Auror smiled warmly at Rose who, against her better judgement, found herself blushing, remembering what had almost occurred the previous evening.

“Good morning, people!” he said, joyful as ever. “This is Michael Santino. He will be your guide in Brazilia.”

Tina, ever the cautious woman, eyed the newcomer with a furrowed brow. “And what do you do, Michael?”

The other man smiled, but it was laced with something edgy, as if he didn’t appreciate the brunette’s suspicion. “I’m an Auror,” he answered in a rich, American-accented voice.

Rose realised that ‘Michael’ wasn’t a very Brazilian name.

“Is that so?” Tina continued, hand poised at her side, as if she was ready to draw out her wand.

Joao chuckled, lifting a hand to defuse the situation. “It’s alright, Miss Goldstein. Michael has been my partner for ages. His mother is a…how do you say? Non-Magical person?”

Tina sighed, sharing a quick glance with Rose before looking back at the blonde man. “In my experience, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be a sympathiser to Grindelwald’s ideals.” She turned to Rose again, dropping her voice. “I wish Queenie was here.”

Rose chuckled, drawing Joao’s gaze to her again, before she stared their guide down. “Mister Santino, given the…dangers that we would be facing outside of this hotel, my friend’s fears are justified. Would you agree to submit yourself to a verbal contract?”

Joao and Michael’s eyes widened. They were obviously wondering how on Earth she knew what verbal contracts were and entailed. Tina and Newt themselves seemed at a loss…

Joao’s smile returned. “Do it, Michael. I trust Miss Rose knows what she is asking.”

Rose returned his smile, grateful for the trust, even though she knew it was more than likely based on his attraction to her. “Tina?” she said, grabbing her friend’s hand, “Come with me, please, I want to have a witness.” She smiled gently at their guide for the day, trying to signify that nothing would be amiss, and they walked to a more secluded part of the lobby.

Newt and Nagini remained rooted near Joao, both looking quite lost.

* * *

Brazilia was way hotter than Rio, that’s the first thing that Rose noticed when their Portkey landed near a fake-antique column. Her thin white dress clung to her in a matter of seconds, and she cast a Chilling Charm over herself and Nagini nearby, gaining a thankful smile from the girl who looked as uncomfortable in the heat as the red-head.

Michael, who was back to a more cheery behaviour after having accepted the verbal contract – it was almost as effective as an Unbreakable Vow, just less invasive – quickly led them down an animated street where various merchants tried to sell exotic fruits, potions of all makings, and dress robes enchanted to keep their owner cool.

The line in front of the bookshop they were scheduled for was much less consequent than it had been in London, Rio and even Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, the ridiculously-called Welsh town they’d visited once for a book-signing. In fact, if Rose’s memory served, Newt had signed fewer books that day than there were letters in the town’s name…

Still, they settled, bottles of magically-chilled water on the desk, enough chairs for all, and a long day ahead of them…

* * *

It was only 3pm when something started brewing outside the quaint little shop. Newt hadn’t had a visitor at the desk for about half-an-hour, but crowds were amassing outside, facing the opposite pavement as if something was occurring there.

Tina, ever practical, asked Newt, Rose and Nagini to stay behind while she and Michael made their way outside to see what exactly was happening. Rose, in case, drew out her wand. Newt did the same, and placed himself in front of Nagini, just in case.

At that very moment, someone screamed outside, and people started running left and right. Rose saw bolts of light over the running crowds, and understood that spells were being cast. She didn’t miss the green hue of some.

Without thinking, she sprang into action and ran outside, trying to locate Tina amidst the commotion.

People were fighting. Some were casting jinxes at people’s backs, snarls on their faces, and shouted in Portuguese. Casting a quick Shield over a girl who was going to be Stunned, Rose ran forward, not stopping until she saw Tina and Michael, casting spells this way and that to protect civilians and themselves.

Rose was reminded of how her History books had described the Battle of Hogwarts, the one during which her parents and Uncle had defeated Voldemort’s army. The attackers were many, men and women alike, with nasty expressions on their faces. The only thing missing was the Dark Mark on their forearms.

Soon, though, it was over, Brazilian Aurors Apparating all around the place, and the attackers Disapparating in the same breath, leaving injured, shocked or dead people in their wake.

* * *

Rose ran to Tina, wand still held up. The brunette jumped, startled and still high on adrenaline. “What happened?” Rose asked.

It was Michael, who held his left wrist as if he’d been struck there, who answered. “They were shouting Grindelwald’s mantra. The people they attacked….Half-Bloods or No-Maj-borns.”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Grindelwald’s mantra? But…the Ministry had it all under control. All Houses were under surveillance!”

Tina pursed her lips. “Something must have gone wrong.”

“Evidently,” the red-head answered. “Come on,” she said, eager to leave this place, “let’s go find the others and go back to Rio.”

They ran back to the bookshop, deserted except from Newt, who was lying on the floor, unconscious.

Tina squealed, running to his side to check his pulse, while Rose stood, frozen, until her friend confirmed that he was alive, just Stunned. Muttering the counter-curse under her breath, she then hurried to her brother’s side, helping him up.

Newt blinked once or twice, turning to Rose then Tina, and staring at her as he said “Credence was here. He took Nagini.”

Tina and Rose shared another dark glance. They _really_ needed to get back to Rio…

* * *

Theseus and Joao were in a right state when finally reached the Brazilian Ministry. They gathered in a meeting-room, away from prying eyes and ears. Both men looked as though they wanted nothing more than to punch a wall which, while not unusual for Theseus, definitely was for Joao.

“What happened?” Tina asked, unwilling to way any longer to learn what exactly had been going spectacularly wrong.

“We were betrayed,” said Joao grimly. “Two of my colleagues were tasked to watch a House near Manaus. They went to Grindelwald’s side. The rally happened there in the late morning, followed by riots and attacks in Brazilia, where you were; Salvador; and here, in Rio.”

Tina cursed loudly, smacking her hand against her head. “Couldn’t you know who was more at risk of turning?”

“No,” Joao said harshly. “Everyone was tested, everyone was asked questions. We all thought they were safe.”

“And you were wrong,” she countered, visibly enraged at the situation.

Newt cut the argument short, staring right at his brother. “Credence has Nagini, now.”

Theseus pursed his lips. “What did he do?”

“I think he had agreed to meet her at the bookshop, but he hadn’t expected me to be alone with her. She didn’t want to go with him; so he Stunned her, then me. When Rose woke me up, they were gone.”

The older brother nodded gravely. “Your locating spell: will it work?”

Newt nodded. “I just need my case.” His brother nodded again.

Rose, whose head had done a weird ping-pong motion between the two, held a hand up. “Wait a second, what are you two talking about?”

Theseus didn’t give her an answer and strode out of the room; Newt turned to her, almost sheepish. “I can locate Credence, track his magic.”

“Can you?” Tina asked, surprised. “I thought that was impossible!”

“Credence is an Obscurial,” Newt explained as he would a child. “His magic is different than ours, it leaves out specific tracks. Especially now that he has a wand.”

“He has a wand?!” Tina looked properly shocked, then.

“Grindelwald must have given him one.”

Rose shook her head, still at a loss. “How are you going to track him, then? What’s in your case, Newt?”

Her brother avoided meeting her eyes, telling her that he was somehow ashamed of what he’d done, or brought with him. “The other Obscurus.”

Tina and Rose looked at him as if he’d announced he’d grown a pair of wings…

* * *

When Theseus had retrieved Newt’s case from the hotel, the magizoologist went down the ladder with Tina, who was still quite cross with him, while Rose, Joao and Theseus joined a group of trusted Aurors in the Ministry lobby.

“When we’ve found him,” Theseus was saying, Joao translating immediately after, “we’ll need to tread carefully. He may be in a safe-house with the others, but he also may be alone. Either way, he’s extremely dangerous.” The Brazilian Aurors nodded gravely, pursing their lips.

When Newt emerged from the case in the middle of a circle of sombre-looking men, he was holding a vial containing a wisp of very angry magic.

“This,” he said, uncorking it and waving his wand over it, “it going to find Credence. And,” he waved his wand again, summoning a map of Brazil, “we’re going to track it.” He blew on the vial, and the wisp of Obscurial magic flew off, through a wall and out in the world.

Rose gritted her teeth. “Are you sure it’s going to work?”

Newt stared at the map, where a drop of blue magic was moving at an extraordinary speed. “It _is_ working.”

And so it was.

For several minutes, everyone held their breath, watching the spot of magic fly North from Rio, further and further away and into the jungle, until it stopped a little to the right of the city of Manaus, where the rally had taken place.

When it stopped and settled there, the almost religious silence that had fallen over the Aurors was broken: everyone started speaking, giving orders here and there in a hissed version of Portuguese. Theseus watched it unfurl, looking sporadically at Joao who would then translate something to him.

At long last, everyone was standing, wand held tightly in their fist. “We’ll Disillusion ourselves,” Joao started, “before Apparating there. We’ll surround the house. It has no neighbours. Then we go in, two by two.” When every English-speaking person had nodded their ascent, they cast the Disillusionment Charm over themselves, and each grabbed the arm of someone who knew where they were going, being pulled into several Side-Alongs.

* * *

They Apparated outside of Manaus, apparently, five-hundred meters away from the target. It was a quiet neighbourhood, which happened to consist in both Muggle and Wizarding families. The Aurors who’d known the area had family nearby. It must have been the Brazilian equivalent of Ottery Saint-Catchpole…

The house that Credence had taken Nagini to was a white, mansion-like estate, with vines climbing on the façade of this one-storey property. Something though, perhaps the car parked in front, told Rose that it hadn’t been borrowed from a wizarding owner.

“I smell death,” she said, being reminded of Paris again.

Tina nodded gravely. “I agree.”

Slowly, they surrounded the house. Rose didn’t dare cast an _Hominum Revelio_ , by fear of being heard or noticed, but in the end, she didn’t need to: an Auror did it for her, and they were, yet again, too late.

“They are gone,” Joao said with a displeased look. “But not long ago.” He watched his colleagues go in, and gestured the gang to do the same.

Unsurprisingly, they had entered yet another version of Nurmengard, void of anything interesting or important. The bedrooms that had been used were emptied of any personal contents; and the dining-room table was void of any papers that might have helped them find Grindelwald.

“They burnt it all,” Theseus announced after checking scorch marks near the fireplace. “There’s nothing left.”

“Wait,” Newt said, getting on his knees as he would do trying to locate a hiding creature. He crouched next to what looked like a radiator – definitely a Muggle house, then – and came back up with a torn piece of paper.

He put it down on the dining-table, his friends pouring over it eagerly.

“It’s a map,” Joao said. “Or, a piece of a map.”

Theseus nodded. “I see an ‘O’ that’s been highlighted. Might be where they’re going next.”

Rose knew he was right. She leaned in, trying to read the tiny name that was near the ‘O’, to get a clue, anything else than the meaningless blur of road-lines. “Pa-Pach-Pachuca,” she deciphered. “Where is Pachuca?” she asked around.

Joao pursed his lips. “It’s near Mexico City.”

They all stared down at the piece of paper, their sole lead, a feeble one, but also, a logical one.

“They’ve gone to Mexico,” Theseus confirmed, a determined look on his face. “Then that’s where we’ll go too.”


	40. In which the gang falls into a trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay between chapters, I promise it's the last time I say that. XD Heatwave and new PC means a lot of time trying to find air or fiddling with Windows 10 for a few days...  
> Also, someone mentioned that Mexico, around 1928, wasn't really a safe place, since it was at War. I confess I haven't paid attention to that in my research, which was mainly esthetic. So, for the purpose of this story, let's pretend that the war didn't concern the Wizarding population. As stupid as it sounds...

The decision to leave Brazil for Mexico City was made in a matter of seconds. Time was of the essence, now, because Grindelwald was still eluding them and now, he had Nagini. Despite everything, the girl had become precious to the gang, and Rose counted her as important, even if she wasn’t a friend. Yet.

She and Tina gathered all of the gang’s things back at the hotel before joining Newt and Theseus back at the Brazilian Ministry. When they arrived, they were surprised to see Joao carrying his own shrunken bag, and in heavy discussion with Theseus.

“Joao?” Rose asked, unsure as to what she had to understand from the situation. “Are you…coming with us?”

He turned to her, a small smile forming on his lips upon seeing her. “Yes, I am. Your brother and I believe that we cannot lose any more time. When we arrive in Mexico, there’ll be no time to report to their Ministry, which can also be infiltrated. Mister Newt will track Credence’s magic again, and I’ll be your translator if you need it. I speak Spanish too and,” he added with a serious look on his face, “I’m a Caçador. You may need more fighters.”

Rose felt a lump form in her throat. She didn’t want anyone to get so involved in this that they would get hurt. Plus, she had a strong suspicion that he coming with them had less to do with a sense of duty than the unwillingness to let her go.

So she gently drew him away by the arm, away from the others and their tendency to eavesdrop. She ignored Theseus’ suspicious look and Tina’s knowing one, and jumped into the fray. “Joao… Are you coming only because of me?”

He furrowed his brow. “I…do not understand what you mean, Miss Rose.”

“Are you coming to Mexico with us because I am going too?” She clarified, lips pursed. “Are you coming only because you feel like I should be close to you?”

His dark eyes flashed, and he pursed his lips too. Surprisingly, though, his tone when he answered was devoid of any criticism, self-importance or possessiveness. “Of course I am coming because you are going too! I do not want you to be hurt or harmed, and two Aurors is too few to protect you from someone like Grindelwald and his men.” He sighed. “If you preferred I did not come…”

Rose’s eyes widened. On an impulse, she grabbed his hand. “No, that’s not what I meant!”

“Miss Rose,” he interrupted, glancing down at their suddenly joined hands, “I do not believe that I can win your heart. I do not want to leave Brazil and my family behind, and you would not want to leave your England and your family either. But,” he added, squeezing her fingers gently, “that doesn’t mean that I cannot care about you and protect you from harm.”

She was stunned into silence. Truly. For the first time in forever, she had met the type of guy that every woman dreamt of meeting and falling in love with. He was the stellar opposite of those pretentious self-righteous misogynistic pigs that she had dated time and time again back home. And despite all that, she had to fall for another…

Gasping through her surprise, she had to tell him, breathily, “You’re a really good man, Joao Santos…”

He smiled again, chuckling a bit as he winked. “My mother raised me well…”

She chuckled back, and they went to join the others again, the incident over, but a pleasant flutter remaining in Rose’s chest.

Merlin…gentlemen really _did_ exist after all…

* * *

The Portkey the Brazilian Ministry had managed to conjure for them took them to the city-centre of wizarding Mexico. Apparently a common Apparition and Portkey point, it was surrounded by merchants hailing them as soon as they appeared, trying to sell one product or other. Joao, using a harsh tone and Spanish words, pulled them all out of the crowding sellers, and into a quieter street.

“I hate Mexico,” he hissed, making Tina laugh. “What?”

“So far,” the American said with a smirk, “I don’t see much difference with your Rio.” Joao sent her a hard glance, but it was all in good humour.

Rose added her own jab to the mix. “Actually, it’s less stifling here, much more agreeable heat-wise.”

“Not you too,” Joao fake-moaned.

Theseus was shaking his head, obviously torn between smiling at their antics and the seriousness of the situation. Newt, had already disappeared into his case, no doubt to retrieve another wisp of Obscurial magic.

After five long minutes, though, he still hadn’t reappeared, and Tina started fidgeting. “Don’t you think we ought to go and see if he’s alright?” she asked.

Rose exchanged a look with Theseus. Both knew from experience that Newt never needed any help with his creatures, let alone the Obscurial he’d managed to capture. To disturb him down there would most probably be counterproductive.

However, there was no stopping a worried maybe-girlfriend, and Tina had jumped off the ladder quicker than either of them could have said ‘Stop’.

Joao chuckled at that, pointing at the case with a grin. “She has it bad, doesn’t she?”

Theseus glared at him, as if mocking his brother’s future wife – although, technically, he didn’t know she was – was offending him personally.

Rose, on the other hand, nodded with a fond smile. “They’ve been circling each other for a while now. They’re cute.”

“They are,” the Auror confirmed. “I don’t know either of them very well, but they are.”

“I’m sure one day you’ll be cute with someone too, Joao,” she said with a gentle smile that he returned fondly.

“Hopefully, not as cute. I still want to be taken seriously.”

She snorted, and noticed that Theseus had frozen, staring at her blankly as if she’d said something of importance. She held his gaze, but couldn’t decipher anything in their grey-green hues, and soon decided to watch her brother and Tina climb the ladder back up, both sporting an adorable set of blushes.

“Ah,” she teased, “I see how it is…”

Newt ignored her, but Tina jabbed her in the ribs. “Shut up,” she muttered, and Rose laughed. Ah, young love…

* * *

Newt, practical as ever, soon cast the same spell he had in Rio on this new wisp of Obscurial magic. Unlike in Rio, though, they followed it immediately, walking and running on occasion through strange streets none knew through a city that was foreign to all. Over ponds and streams they went, further and further still from the city centre, until the wisp promptly vanished within the wards of a tiny house standing in a suburb of the capital.

“Where are we?” hissed Theseus, turning to Joao who shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve never gone out of the centre before.”

Tina then cast a Location spell, and announced “We’re in Tlàhuac, whatever that means. Muggle Mexico.”

“As usual,” Rose growled. “I bet you anything that the former owners of this house are now dead.”

Theseus looked back at Joao, his wand held firmly in his grip. “How long before the Mexican Ministry can intervene?”

“Considering we have not gone to them first, maybe an hour. I’d need to go there and explain. They might not follow me straight up.” Theseus gritted his teeth. “We knew this might happen if we tracked them down immediately. We can take them down, if we act intelligently.”

“You don’t know them. You’ve never faced _him_ ,” the older Auror said. All the bravado he’d displayed in Brazil seemed to have vanished, as if he was sensing the proximity of the man who had taken his beloved from him.

“Theseus,” Tina said, a serious look on her face, “so far, we know that he has Credence, Abernathy and Rosier with him. No one else. And I doubt a house this size,” she pointed at the crooked façade, “could host any more of his kind.”

Newt nodded. “Credence is not a threat if we can talk some sense into him. Which leaves only the three others.”

Tina nodded back. “I’ll take care of Abernathy.” Rose’s head snapped towards her at that, but her friend ignored her.

“I’ll take Rosier,” she said, the same gritty edge in her voice.

“And Grindelwald-“

“-is ours,” ended Newt. He was staring right ahead, refusing to meet with brother’s gaze, but there was no discussing this with him: his mind was made up. And it was a sane strategy anyway.

Joao’s expression was more serious than it had ever been since they had met him. He eyed the quartet as if assessing their strengths, and nodded gravely. “I’ll go wherever I’m needed.”

“Protect Rose, if you please,” Theseus said, again avoiding looking at the person he was talking to. “All we need to do now, it to take these wards down.”

“Let’s spread out, then,” Tina said. “There’s enough greenery around this place to prod without being seen.”

“Disillusionment,” Rose still said, and all the others concurred, casting the spell over themselves before they spread into two groups: the girls went right, the boys, left.

* * *

The wards around the house were powerful, and had no doubt been cast by Grindelwald himself. Tina was very displeased by her inability to either find exactly what they were or how to dismantle them. She was no curse-breaker, but she still was an Auror, and they were normally quite good at breaking wards.

Rose was prodding the shield herself, trying to find a crack, a weak spot, rather than how to take down the entire dome of it in one go. She had no idea how to do that anyway…

They’d reached the back of the house – a dead garden with a broken down wooden slide and an old palm tree – when she saw a flicker in the gold of the shield. Finally, was seemed like a shimmer, a weak spot!

She was turning to tell Tina she’d found it when a cold hand closed around her arm. Before she could even scream, the hand had pulled her through the flicker and the wards, and into the protection of the house.

Unsurprisingly, it was Rosier who’d caught her. The malicious and purely villainous smile she sent her wasn’t a surprise, either. What was a surprise, however, was the Stunning spell swiftly cast at her from the porch. She didn’t have time to see who had cast it.

She was out in less than a heartbeat…


	41. In which Rose is being tortured

When Rose came to – that is to say, when someone cast the counter-spell to wake her – it was to the realisation that some kind of potion was being force-fed to her. She tried to sputter and spit, but a hand held her throat firmly, forcing her to swallow.

Immediately, a form of haze took over her, as if she was only half-awake. When she finally managed to open her eyes, the place she was in appeared blurry, almost as if she was drunk. It didn’t take long to understand that she’d been drugged, and that her magical powers had therefore been muted.

When the room came into focus, Rose was staring at her hand, which she found rested on her stomach, which itself, along with the rest of her body, rested on an old-fashioned four-poster bed with beddings that had definitely seen better days. She’d been brought to a small bedroom with one window which curtains had been closed, letting only a slither of light in.

The two people with her in the room, though, she had no question about who they were or why they were here.

Vinda Rosier had managed to trap her in, pulling her through the wards, and had apparently been the one force-feeding her the potion, for she was standing next to the bed, her cold features looking even icier than they had in Paris. She was holding a non-descript vial. She smirked evilly before retreating to a corner of the room, behind her master.

Obviously, Grindelwald was the second person present. Come to think of it, Rose supposed it had been _him_ who had Stunned her. He was pacing at the foot of the bed, eyeing her with those scary mismatched eyes, hands crossed behind his back.

“Miss Rose,” he started in that velvety silver-tongue of his. “I am so happy to see you again. I was worried that I would have to go all the way to London to visit your _charming_ house; but thankfully, you came to me instead. Thank you.”

Rose tried to sit up, to glare at him more provocatively, but stumbled a bit, the potion hindering even the easiest of movements. “What do you want, Grindelwald?”

He paused, placing his hands on the footboard, a tight smile appearing on his lips. “What do you suppose I want, Miss Rose? The same I wanted in New-York, the same I wanted in Paris. I want you by my side. With your knowledge of the future, we could change History!”

Rosier didn’t look very happy at that thought, if the little huff she gave was any indication.

Rose kept glaring at the Dark Wizard and managed to pull herself into a seating position, drawing her knees closer to herself and her feet further away from him. “I told you before: I will _never_ join you. I’d rather _die_.”

His gaze turned colder, as it had in the Lestranges vault. “I was hoping that losing Miss Lestrange would have made you see sense. Alas,” he said, slowly drawing his wand from his sleeve. That’s when Rose realised that hers wasn’t anywhere near her. Not that she could have used it anyway… “I was worried it’d come to this. I’m sorry, but it is in all probability going to hurt.”

She didn’t even have time to wonder what he was going to strike her with. He silently cast the spell, and it was all she could do to prepare herself mentally for the assault that followed.

* * *

Grindelwald’s skills in Legilimency were out of this world, Rose knew from History books. Given the wand he was wielding, it was even more obvious in the ease he had to enter her mind and start roaming through it.

What he couldn’t account for was the fact that, after the Second Wizarding War, Occlumency had become part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum. At O.W.L.s level. Rose had always had trouble stopping her mind from going a thousand miles an hour, but she knew the basics, and knew how to use her weaknesses to her best advantage.

It was useless to try and completely block Grindelwald from her mind. What Occlumency could do, however, was steer her thoughts away from what he most wanted to see, and instead, stump him onto more trivial memories.

Rose forced a smirk on her lips as she concentrated all her will-power onto conjuring her first Quidditch match and the ensuing party. She focused on James spinning her around and his feet getting caught in his Quidditch robes, making them both stumble into the mud. She focused on Fred scooping said mud and dropping it on top of her head. She focused on the score board, the pride of seeing 180-10 against Ravenclaw. She focused on it hard, and was rewarded after only a minute.

Grindelwald released his spell, and for the first time since she had seen that face and not Percival Graves’, she saw him displaying outward anger. And it was directed at her. Rose, as any sensible person faced with Gellert Grindelwald’s wrath, felt herself tremble in fear of what was to come.

“Very foolish,” he said, his velvety tone edgier, somehow. “Very foolish,” he repeated, “to try and resist this, Miss Rose.” He lifted his wand so quickly she barely saw it, but then, the pain overwhelmed everything.

She had never been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse. She knew the theory, knew that the pain endured was the worst possible. That it was excruciating enough to drive some people mad and even to drive them to kill themselves. She wasn’t prepared.

At the back of her mind, she realised she was screaming as she was writhing down on the bed, faced with the worst pain possible. It felt like her whole body was on fire, that a million daggers were piercing her skin, that someone was dragging the dirtiest, dullest blade through her stomach. She screamed and screamed, until he lifted it.

In the aftermath of his Cruciatus, Grindelwald tried Legilimency again. But Rose’s mind was by then totally overshadowed by the pain she had just experienced, and any other thought did not make it to the forefront of her consciousness.

When he realised that, he turned to another tactic.

* * *

“ _Impero_ ,” he uttered, the only spell he had actually cast verbally since she’d unfortunately met him.

Again, Rose had never before experienced being put under the Imperius Curse. Obviously, her parents – and surprisingly, more her father than her mother, for once – had warned her against its effects, its consequences, and the dangers of facing someone who you did not realise were under that spell. Of course, in 2026, there were very little occurrences of people actually falling victims to the Imperius, the Ministry saw to that, but right then, she wished she had taken her Dad’s advice and asked Uncle Harry to teach her how to resist it.

“You are going to tell me everything I need to know,” Grindelwald hissed.

Rose was sitting ramrod on her bed, unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. She had lost all control over her own body. It was as if her mind was trapped inside a cage. She heard herself say “I am going to tell you everything you need to know.”

He opened his mouth to ask his first damning question, but the door to the room burst open then, revealing Abernathy. He didn’t even spare her a glance, and his forked tongue passed his lips before he announced “Masster, they have managed to take the wardss down.”

Rose could not move an inch, wish she could to scream and alert her family and friends that she was up there, that she needed help.

Instead, Grindelwald lifted his wand, not fully releasing her, but the force of his spell lessening, somehow. “Go. Stop them. Take Credence. His powers have grown further than I could have imagined.”

Rosier and Abernathy nodded gravely, and both left the room, closing the door behind them, again not sparing her the slightest of glances.

However, Grindelwald’s anger, displeasure that Newt and the others had somehow managed to get through his powerful protection, and overall annoyance at her resistance all made his Imperius weaker by the second. He hadn’t noticed, for instead of turning back to her, he strode to the window to glance at the outside of the house.

Rose found her limbs cooperating, even if it took her a humongous effort even just to move her hand from under her from where she’d writhed under the Cruciatus. She turned her head carefully, trying to find anything that could help her. Anything that could buy her time while she was unable to speak or yell.

As soon as he put her under the Imperius again, she was done for.

Then, her gaze fell onto the very heavy horse sculpture that decorated the bedside table. With calculated movements, and a weary glance towards her assailant, she managed to bring it from the side, and into her hands.

Now, with what to do with it…

Grindelwald was going to turn from the window any time now.

Rose glanced down at the sculpture, then back at the Dark Wizard.

She breathed in deeply, drew the horse back, then rammed it as strongly as she could into her own head…

* * *

It dizzied her for about ten seconds, making black spots enter her sight, and blood pour from her temple and onto her cheeks, then neck.

Rose fell unconscious from the wound another minute later, not having noticed that the whole house had shaken, and not just her. Grindelwald had wobbled on his two feet, only realising what she’d done once the tremors were over.

Then, he growled, pointed his wand at her again, and cast another Cruciatus Curse that both woke her up and made her arch over the mattress with a mighty scream.

She was pain. Pain, blood, and nothing else. She was going to die there, she knew it. How could she ever survive this? Again and again and again he held the curse over her, making her throat sorer by the second with the force of her screams. Her muscles clenched painfully from where she was fisting her hands and breaking skin with her nails. She felt as though one of her legs had snapped, as though her back was broken. At one point, she fell off the bed, but he still didn’t lift the curse.

An eternity later, when Rose’s mind was close to breaking point, when she felt like nothing in life had ever been anything else than pain, she faintly heard the sound of broken wood, and finally, the spell was lifted.

A second later, she was out for the count…


	42. In which more than bones have to be mended

Everything hurt. From her toenails to the tip of her hair, everything hurt. She couldn’t be sure whether it was a figment of her imagination, if her body just reacted to what it’d been through, or if she truly was still in pain, but her mind couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

Rose groaned, slipping back into consciousness, back arching painfully as a wave of fire overtook her, as if she was still under the Cruciatus Curse. She faintly heard someone say something, and a few moments later, a warm hue took over her, numbing the pain and helping her open her eyes to find out exactly where she was, and whether or not she was dead.

Turned out she wasn’t dead. Instead, when she managed to lift an eyelid than two, she was in what could only be a hospital room. It was quaint, and fairly void of much furniture – the bed she was lying on, a bedside table and a chair – but was decorated with what looked like Aztec murals. If her ears weren’t playing some tricks on her, there were ambient sounds of nature too, soothing patients, no doubt. It was a stark change to what she knew of Saint Mungo’s and even Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing. For a moment, she basked into it, noticing the colourful patterns adorning her bedsheets before she noticed she wasn’t alone.

A sob left her lips when she saw Tina, who was sitting on the chair, her right arm in a sling, a cane next to her. She forwent it to hurry to Rose’s side, though, and sat on the bed, brow creased with worry.

“How are you feeling?” her friend asked, voice low as if they were going to disturb someone.

Rose was grateful for the numbness that had been placed over her – no doubt by a nurse, the door was slightly ajar – but worried for her own medical state right after. “What happened? Am I cursed? Why do I still feel pain? What happened to you? Where’s Newt? Where’s Theseus? Why am I not dead?”

Tina chuckled a bit, placing a soothing hand on her arm to stop her flow of questions. “Calm down, Rose. One thing at a time. How are you feeling?” she repeated.

The red-head tried to calm down. She had too many questions, too many fears. An iron fist closed around her heart as she pictured Newt and Theseus dead, murdered by Grindelwald, and she felt the tell-tale beginnings of a panic attack rise in her chest.

Tina grabbed her hand, this time, and squeezed it as tightly as she could with her left hand, before whispering “They’re alive. They’re safe.”

Rose felt another sob tear through her, and her friend waited until she was calmed enough to repeat her question for the third time, patient, but also too worried to care about letting her avoid it a third time.

The young witch sighed. “When I woke, I felt as if I was still under the Curse. As if my whole body was still on fire…”

“Same intensity, or less?” Tina asked, all practicality then.

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Less, now that I think of it. But still painful.”

“On a scale of one to ten?” the brunette pried. Rose wondered for a second if she was on a mission from the Mexican nurses. She probably was.

“Then, when _he_ …cast it,” she shuddered, “I was on a twenty. Now…” she concentrated again, “maybe a seven.”

Tina nodded, satisfied, before she settled more comfortably next to Rose, keeping her hand in hers. “They weren’t sure you were going to wake up at all,” she said after a while, the edge of hurt in her voice making Rose ache for her. “He held it a long time…”

The red-haired Healer sighed, knowing all-too-well what Healing studies thought of long-held Cruciatus Curses and their consequences on the body and psyche. “I was on the edge, but then he stopped. Why did he stop?” she asked again.

Tina looked at her, meeting her eyes truly for the first time since she’d woken up. They were misty with tears, worry and pain, but also fiery and proud. “Alright, you want to do this now?” Rose nodded, lips pursed. “Okay. Let me just tell Joao what he has to translate to the Healers, then I’ll be right back.”

Rose’s eyes widened when the Brazilian’s name was pronounced. “Joao?! Is he alright?”

Tina smiled softly. “He is. Shaken, like the rest of us, but he’s fine. He’s babysitting right now.” She smirked when Rose showed she had no idea what she was talking about, and slid off the bed to grab her cane. She limped to the door, turned, and said “I’ll explain everything. Sit back and don’t move.”

Rose had half a mind to stick her tongue out at her friend, but the gravity of the situation did not allow it.

* * *

Tina was back after about five more minutes, a nurse in tow. In standard blue robes, she was carrying a tray on which had been placed a glass of water, a vial of potion, and a bowl of soup. She placed it carefully on Rose’s lap, placed a steadying charm on it, and gently said “Eat,” before she left the room.

Tina resumed her place on the chair to give Rose room to effectively eat, and added “You’re supposed to take that potion after we’re done. It’ll make you sleep.”

Rose nodded. Dreamless Sleep was an ordinary remedy to most injuries that needed time to fully heal. Although she wasn’t sure why she needed to sleep some more when she’d obviously been in a coma prior to that day.

Which prompted her to ask, a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth, “How long have I been out?”

Tina’s gaze blurred, as if she was counting. “Six days.”

Rose nodded. She wasn’t pleased. Six days were a lot. Especially with an issue as hers. Any longer in a Cruciatus-induced coma and she could have been braindead…

She took another spoonful before gesturing Tina to carry on. “Come on, then, tell me everything!”

Tina shook her head, chuckling a bit. “Typical,” she sighed, sitting more comfortably in her chair. “Well, first, you had broken ribs, a broken femur, and several bruised vertebrae. Thankfully, these Healers are miracle-workers. Newt will tell you. Apparently, he’s interested in their Healing.” She shrugged. “Are any of these still sore?”

Rose prodded the aforementioned areas carefully. It wasn’t a surprise that she had been physically injured during her ordeal. Apparently, she hadn’t dreamt the snapping of her leg. After a moment, she shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Physically. I think the pain I felt when I woke up was more somatic than anything.”

If Tina didn’t understand what ‘somatic’ meant, she didn’t say. Instead, she looked at the mural on top of the door, and started her tale, finally. “When you were taken through the wards, I went back to find the others. Theseus was beside himself, tried to force himself through the shield, and almost got blasted back when he did.” She sighed. “We thought we couldn’t get to you in time, but then, after perhaps twenty minutes of trying every spell we could think of, the wards imploded. And when the shield and concealing charm lifted, we saw who had taken them down.”

A fond smile appeared on her lips then. Rose thought it meant that Newt had been the one saving her, in the end, but she was surprised to hear the real reason.

“Nagini had managed to sway Credence back to our side. He didn’t condone what Grindelwald did to Muggles, or what he intended to do to you. So, he took the wards down.” Her smile widened, like a proud mother. “He has more control over his magic, now. The wand helps, I think. But he’s still so powerful. I think he might me more powerful than Grindelwald himself…”

Rose couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her own lips. She was happy that the boy had come back to them. Nagini was a clever girl. And now, she understood who Joao was ‘babysitting’.

“When we got in, Abernathy and Rosier were there, along with five others we’d never seen before. They were angry that Credence had betrayed them, and tried to harm him. Joao took care of Rosier – she’s in the Mexican Ministry’s custody – and Nagini and Credence stayed back. He was scared he’d harm one of us trying to stop them instead.” A snarl formed on her lips then. “Abernathy went straight for me. You were right: he wanted me dead. I owe him this,” she gestured to her arm. “Slicing Charm. The limp I owe Newt when he threw me down out of a Killing Curse’s way.” She chuckled. “You should have seen his face when he saw he’d hurt me…” The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “He did it. He killed him. Abernathy. Without even a hesitation.”

Rose pursed her lips. She knew the stain that would remain on her dear brother’s soul after he’d done it. Someone as pure as Newt didn’t deserve to be split in two. But at the same time… “There was no hesitation possible. Abernathy was going to kill you.”

Tina looked at her fondly. “You two…” she said. “I love you both, but…stop trying to protect us at the cost of your own integrity. _Please._ ”

Rose ignored her plea, and instead said “You _love_ him, uh?”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Rose smirked, then scooped more soup into her spoon. “Carry on, Miss Goldstein.”

* * *

“After Abernathy was down, there weren’t any of them left to stop us. We’d heard your screams, but we hadn’t noticed that Theseus had gone missing. Obviously,” she said almost severely, “he’d gone after you.”

“He saved me,” Rose whispered, overcome with gratitude. So the wood breaking she’d heard before being freed of the Cruciatus had no doubt been Theseus blasting into the door…

“Yes, he did,” Tina said, but there was sadness behind her words, making Rose raise her gaze worriedly. “He’d taken two Cruciatus himself, along with an unknown Dark Spell to the chest when Newt and Joao arrived. Newt said that Grindelwald Disapparated as soon as he saw them, which he was surprised about. I’m surprised, too, if I’m being honest…”

Rose agreed that it was surprising, but her worry over Theseus’ health overwhelmed everything else. “How is he? What was the spell?”

Tina left her chair and came to sit by her once more. “They don’t know. But it did some damage.” She tried to soothe Rose’s sharp intakes of breath by rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “He has tremors, from time to time, and seems not to realise where he is. But only by episodes. He broke his own wrist, persuaded that it was Grindelwald’s who was holding him hostage. The damage is much more extensive over his mind than yours…”

“I need to go see him.”

“I knew you’d say that, but not now.” Tina held her firmly, and Rose, mindful for her own injuries, calmed down. “If you go now, you’ll stumble out of bed and back into sleep. It’s better if you rest some more first. Newt is with him now. I’ll go fetch him and stay with Theseus then. We have rotated like that since we arrived,” she added in a smile. “He can’t choose between his two siblings…”

Rose felt fondness wave over her, before she said, shakily, “Well, now it’ll be more important for him to check over the sibling who needs him most. While I can’t go myself.”

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way,” Tina said with a small smile. “Don’t worry,” she soothed again, “he’s in capable hands.”

Rose nodded, trying to convince herself that it was true. And it was true. These were professional Healers, just as she was. They knew what they were doing. She had to think about herself first, then him.

“Good girl,” Tina said as she slid off the bed once more. “Ready to see that infuriatingly cute brother of yours?”

Rose couldn’t help but shake her head with an amused smile. “Go fetch him.”

* * *

Newt wasn’t usually a very touchy person, but as soon as he got through the door, he hurried to Rose’s side and hugged her, mindful of her former injuries, but tightly enough that she felt how much he’d been worried.

“I’m fine,” she whispered in his neck, feeling the deep breaths he was taking to steady himself.

He didn’t move, instead, he sat on the bed and kept embracing her. “I was so _scared_ , Rosie.”

He had never used that nickname with her before, but right then, it just made her heart soar higher in her chest. She loved him so much, that strange, awkward wizard…

“I’m alright, Newt. Thanks to you all…”

Surprising her once more, he drew back and kissed her on the temple. Then she noticed his green eyes were misty. He’d truly been shaken if he was acting like this.

Then again, he had good reason to. “How is he?” she asked, grabbing his hand in hers.

“They say he’s better, but… Last night, he tried to take something invisible off his chest and scratched himself until he bled…” His brow furrowed, though not in worry but in anger. “ _He’s_ hurt my family one too many times…”

Rose drew his gaze back to hers, and held it. “He’ll be brought down soon enough.” There was finality in her words. She meant them, with all her might. “I won’t allow anyone to suffer for longer than they have to be, now. I’ll help Dumbledore break that stupid blood-pact, if I can. And Grindelwald will go down. _Before_ 1945.”

Newt nodded, the fire in his eyes reflected in hers, she knew. “For Leta. For Theseus.”

She nodded, sealing the promise with a hand over her heart. “For Leta. For Theseus.”


	43. In which Theseus needs help

It took Rose four more days to ‘fully’ recover. In that, the Mexican Healers were only satisfied with her overall physical and mental health after she’d had more rest, and less frequent fits of residual pain.

According to the nurse who took care of her – or what Joao had translated, rather – it wasn’t uncommon for people who had suffered long-held Cruciatus Curses to feel phantom pains. Still according to her, they’d fade in time.

Rose wished she could have had her Mum close by. Hermione Granger had notoriously been put through the same ordeal, this time put on her by Bellatrix Lestrange, and she could have told her daughter more about how to build her psyche back up again. Alas, Hermione Granger was not there at present; and besides, she had always eluded questions regarding what had happened at Malfoy Manor. Rose’s Dad had always found it stupid. Uncle Harry and Aunt Luna appeared more understanding about it.

Newt and Tina did continue their weird rotations from her room to Theseus’ during that time, with briefs encounters with Joao and even Credence and Nagini, who’d visited once. The young Obscurus was still penitent about his going to Grindelwald’s side for a while, and it was easy to forgive his misdeeds when there hadn’t actually been any misdeeds in the first place. Nagini seemed much more at ease with him by her side, though, and kept talking to him about Bunty and Yusuf, as if excited to connect the three people she appreciated most.

It was endearing.

The Brazilian Auror was the only one of their group to actually exit the hospital from time to time. He reported to the Mexican Ministry daily, and brought back news, either conclusive or not. So far, it appeared that Grindelwald had fled Latin and Central America for good. Rosier hadn’t been talking yet, either.

Despite their ‘chief revolutionary’s’ absence, the Brazilian Purebloods had continued carrying on illegal rallies and attacking Muggles and Muggleborns in the streets. Joao was worried that it was going to spread elsewhere, and was impatient to go back home and help.

He and Rose had definitely put behind their attraction to each other, and decided to remain friends. They still exchanged a bit, learning about each other’s pet peeves and hobbies, which never failed to put a smile on the witch’s face. How she wished she had fallen for someone like him…

* * *

Four days, and finally, she was able to get out of bed, and walk through the hospital corridors. Tina’s limp was fully healed, and it was her who held Rose’s arm as she wobbled through the door.

Nurses were busying themselves left and right amidst Aztec-themed walls and murals, and that same ambient noise that reminded Rose of a jungle. She breathed in deeply, concentrating hard on not stumbling onto legs that had been broken and weakened. She felt as if her knees would give way under her any moment, but thankfully, Tina was a good pillar to lean on.

“Where to, Miss Scamander?” the brunette asked with a small pleased smile as her friend was doing better and better each meter they walked.

Rose gave her a look, and didn’t answer.

Tina groaned. “Of course. Come on, he’s just a few doors over.”

They took their sweet time reaching said door, which was wide open to let a breeze of fresh air into the room. When they entered, Rose faltered, heart leaping in her throat in worry.

Theseus was lying on his hospital bed, trembling through what looked like a seizure. Newt was leaning over him, holding his arms steady with a set jaw. He was murmuring some comforting words, thought Rose didn’t hear what they were, and it obviously didn’t help.

Rose pushed off Tina and almost jumped the few feet that separated her from the eldest Scamander. She hoisted herself on the bed near his long legs, and placed a hand on his head to stop him moving.

“How long as he been having this fit?” she asked Newt while still staring at Theseus.

“Twenty-two seconds,” he almost hissed through the effort.

Tina sighed. “They’re getting longer.”

Rose was worried tenfold. If too long or too intense, seizures could provoke important damage to the brain, damage that no magic on Earth could ever fix.

“Theseus,” she tried, holding his shoulders now, putting her force into it and combining it with Newt’s own efforts. “Theseus, calm down. Please.”

Steadily, the tremors weakened, and after another agonizing eleven seconds, he had settled. Newt, panting under the effort, sat back down onto the room’s chair, green eyes filled with worry. Rose had never seen him so emotional – bar the time he’d come to her bedside four days prior.

Theseus started drawing in longer and deeper breaths, a hand jolting from beside him to his chest, as if he was looking for something. Impulsively, Rose took it, and he linked their fingers without apparently meaning to.

She briefly wondered if he unconsciously thought she was Leta, but brushed the feeling aside.

Tina, behind her, drew Newt to his feet. “Come on. Let’s leave Rose with him for a moment. She’ll warn us if there’s any trouble. You need to rest too.”

Rose turned her head, nodding gratefully at her friend. “Newt can use my bed.”

Tina smirked. “That’s what I meant for him to do.”

Rose shook her head with a small smile of her own, and the two left the room, leaving her alone with a still sleeping Theseus.

* * *

Half-an-hour later, Rose couldn’t feel her fingers, and was aching from sitting in an awkward position. She couldn’t move, however, because Theseus’ hold on her hand was too tight.

When he started to stir, she was relieved.

It looked painful for him to open his eyes, which she had experienced herself when she’d woken up the first few times. When he noticed who was there, though, his breath caught, as if he was trying to awaken quicker. “Rose!” It was almost a whisper, but the relief was unmistakeable.

“I’m here. I’m alright.” She waited until he had opened his eyes fully – they were still blurry with sleep, but she hadn’t expected otherwise – before asking “How are you feeling?”

“Like an Erumpent used me as a personal mat.” He sighed, clocking the strong hold he had on her hand, and releasing it a bit. “Sorry. Have I had another one?”

Rose knew what he was referencing, and she nodded gravely. “Apparently, it was longer than the others.”

“They’re getting worse,” he said in a deep sigh. “They don’t know what curse he used. They think the damage might be permanent.”

Rose pursed her lips. “You don’t seem that damaged to me. Besides the seizures.”

He had a dark chuckle. “You’ve caught me at a good time. The first few days, I couldn’t even recognize Newt. I attacked him the first time he tried to help. There are moments when I can’t tell if I’m having a nightmare or not… And it hurts…..even when it doesn’t.”

“I feel the same,” she sighed. “It’s one of the side-effects of powerful Cruciatus Curses.”

At that he tried to sit up, and as the shirt he’d been clothed with moved with him, Rose saw a large bandage wrapped around his whole chest, it seemed. It made her hate Grindelwald even more. “How are _you_ feeling?”

“Better. It could have been far worse, if you hadn’t arrived at that precise moment. Even if I wished you hadn’t been hurt because of it.”

“I’d have done the same a thousand times over,” he said earnestly. Her breath caught again when she saw the intensity with which he was looking at her, and he carried on, lower as if to make sure no one else would hear, “I couldn’t have lived with the thought of you dead.”

Rose couldn’t help it: she smiled, and hoped. And it was foolish to do so. “I couldn’t see you dead either…”

“No, Rose,” he said again, the intensity in his eyes not dimming, “I mean that I couldn’t bear to lose another person I-”

He never finished that sentence, and for the first time in forever, Rose cursed Fate and its ill timings as a nurse entered the room with a collection of Potions vials.

Theseus didn’t stop looking at her, and she felt herself blush, but couldn’t really ask him to finish that thought when there was someone else in the room. And when there was no way in Hell that he was going to profess his love for her. She was foolish, and she had to stop getting her hopes up.

* * *

They were discharged three days later. Theseus was to be handed over to Saint Mungo’s in London, and during transfer, a Mexican Healer would supervise him, give him potions, and survey his probable seizures.

Since Rose had started visiting him, he’d stopped having them as frequently. His episodes of lunacy were still present, at least once a day, and violent, too, but were more easily contained, and less worrying.

Joao announced that they were to go back to England via San Francisco in the U.S., because President Picquery wished to see them before they left. He’d leave them at the Portkey to head back to Rio himself. Rose was sad to see him go, but they’d promised to write each other, so it wasn’t that bad, in the end.

Theseus was carried to the Mexican Ministry on a floating stretcher, wearing the same hospital clothes he had for the previous week. He was displeased about not appearing his best in front of MACUSA’s President, but Tina brushed it off by telling him that Picquery would be glad to meet him in any circumstances.

When time came to say goodbye to Joao, Rose felt her eyes prickle with tears.

“Don’t cry, Miss Rose,” he said with the same wide smile he’d always graced her with, “remember that we have to attend the Quidditch World Cup together one day!”

She chuckled, drawing him into a hug. “I’ll remember that. Be safe.”

“You too,” he said gravely, waving at her as they all placed a finger on the two Portkeys that had been commissioned for them.

A swirl of colour took them all away, and they crossed the country north to the colourful city of San Francisco.

* * *

For a split second, Rose wished they could have sight-seen, even though the Golden Bridge hadn’t been built yet, but she chastised herself for being so shallow when their visit was not of the holiday kind.

When they landed, it was in a large circular room decorated eerily like MACUSA’s Headquarters back in New-York. At the door stood two people that every member of the group – save Theseus and Nagini – recognized, even though they had technically never met the second one.

President Picquery wore her hair blonde in graceful curls that framed her aristocratic features. She gave them a rare smile when they landed, and approached, followed by her colleague.

Rose was uneasy. She almost felt like blushing, but also like drawing her wand, just in case.

Percival Graves, at least, who she assumed was the _real_ Percival Graves, was looking far more alive than she’d left him more than a year prior. He seemed to have really favoured the outfits that Grindelwald had stolen from him, but there were less rigid variations in his tie and collar, for instance.

“Messrs Scamander, Miss Scamander, Miss Goldstein, Credence, Nagini, welcome to San Francisco. I’m sorry to have forced you to make a detour. Especially you, Mister Scamander,” she directed towards Theseus, lying on his stretcher and still angry about it. “I promise I won’t be long.” She turned towards her companion, gesturing him closer. “I don’t think you’ve met Mister Percival Graves, Director of the Auror Department here at MACUSA?”

She said it as if it was any other occurrence of her introducing her colleague; almost as if they hadn’t already met someone with his face before.

Tina shook her head. “I have. Mister Graves,” she said, outstretching a hand that he shook, “I’m glad to see you back in business. We were all worried.”

The man smiled, something Rose hadn’t see on that face before, and it was warm. It made him even more handsome than he usually was. “Nice seeing you too Tina. I never got the opportunity to thank you, and Miss Scamander, for saving me.” He walked to Rose, who forced herself not to flinch or take a step back. To his credit, he seemed to have anticipated it, and didn’t offer her his hand to shake. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I’d be dead without your intervention.”

She managed to croak “You’re welcome, Sir, but I only did my job.”

“Yes, Seraphina mentioned that. Congratulations! First Female Healer in London! You must be proud!” he added towards Newt and Theseus.

The magizoologist nodded, moving closer, studying the other man as if trying to see through another mask. “We are.”

“Madam President,” Theseus intervened, apparently less than happy about sharing mundanities, “why have you asked to see us?”

Picquery turned to him, an impressed look on her face. “Do you always go straight to the point, Mister Scamander?” Her amused smirk faded a second later, though. “We’ve received intelligence that Grindelwald has retreated to Moscow. We wanted to see you so that you could inform the British Ministry when you’ve gone home.”

“Why not send word directly?” Tina asked, brow furrowed.

“Because your experiences in New-York, Paris and now Brazil have shown that Grindelwald may have followers everywhere, anywhere. We cannot trust every official in your Ministry – or ours, for that matter – not to tell him we’re onto him.”

Her reasoning was sound. Tina nodded, as if agreeing to deliver the message herself. She was more likely to go to the Ministry than Theseus, at any rate.

“It was good to see you all, alive. Even you, young man,” she directed at Credence, who frowned. “I am sorry about what happened in New-York. The threat you posed then was too great to risk keeping you alive, but I am truly glad you survived.” It was weird, it wasn’t really an apology, but that’s the last thing she said before exiting the room.

Graves waited, summoning two new Portkeys for them to take back to London, this time. He turned to Rose once more, the same weirdly warm smile on his lips as he said “Thank you again, Miss Scamander. I owe you.”

She blushed for real, this time, but didn’t answer.

She was ready to go home.

And go home she did.


	44. In which promises are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi people!  
> This is it. The end. The final flourishes. This story has taken me such a long time to write that it feels surreal to finish it, at long last...  
> I'm glad that so many of you have liked it, left your imprint on here and made this silly ship and idea of mine sail smoothly (or as smoothly as it could given the circumstances). Thank you so so much!!  
> Enjoy the last chapter and the added epilogue! :)  
> Ana

Settling back in London after the whole ordeal was even stranger and more difficult than after Paris. The little house with its magical basement had almost lost its appeal, as if at any given moment, Grindelwald would walk through the door and kill them all.

Newt had unsurprisingly been the one who had settled back in the easiest out of all of them. He’d gone straight to his creatures, checked in on each of them, congratulated Bunty on her good work, and had officially taken Nagini as his second assistant. The young woman would receive a pay, and have a purpose of her own while having someone she trusted to monitor her transformations.

She had brought Credence to Yusuf and her’s apartment in Diagon Alley. At first, the dark-skinned wizard had been more than reluctant to welcome the boy he still considered to be Corvus Lestrange into his life and home, but after a while, they’d come to somehow tame each other. Credence had subsequently visited Dumbledore to talk about his identity, and had come out of Hogwarts with more questions and more uncertainties than ever: he was _not_ Aurelius Dumbledore. Grindelwald had fooled him again.

Closed off and mistrusting, the young man had still retained the instinctual trust he had put in Tina, and the Auror was the only person he let close enough to teach him about magic. She’d become his teacher, and was visiting him almost daily for hour-long studies and exercises.

Tina herself had gone back to work almost immediately. She’d been promoted, Travers seeing the potential in her and congratulating her on her good work in Brazil and Mexico.

Theseus was still in Saint Mungo’s weeks after their return. His health had improved a notch, but he still suffered moments of lunacy, some of which made him violent towards others but, worse, towards himself. He’d broken his own wrist and suffered a concussion twice since coming back from Mexico.

Rose had trouble sleeping. Her panic attacks had come back, stronger, this time triggered by the littlest things. She’d wake up at night, persuaded that Grindelwald was standing at the foot of her bed, persuaded to be under the Cruciatus again. She took regular doses of Dreamless Sleep, but knew she couldn’t count on it too much.

Instead, she’d found some sort of solace in editing the last manuscript of her and Newt’s joined book. Titled ‘Fantastic Beasts and Their Medical Prowess’, it’d been sent to the editor eleven days after San Francisco. She had little doubt it’d soon be published, and then, she’d become almost as famous as her brother.

* * *

Queenie and Jacob visited them on a gloomy, rainy day. Rose had thought about visiting Theseus at the hospital, something she’d done only once since they’d come back, because the panic that had taken her had pushed him into another episode; but she hung her coat back onto the peg when her dear friends came through the door, beaming and oozing happiness.

Neither of them had lived through Mexico. Rose was glad that Queenie had stopped reading her mind so often, because she didn’t want her friend to relive her horrendous experience, especially not in her state.

“Queens! Jacob! What are you doing here?”

“We have news!” the baker said. He was wearing civilian clothes, and was clean of all flour stains that usually clung to his hair or skin when he visited. Rose understood that he hadn’t been working that day.

“Do you want me to call the others? Tina is with Newt and the girls downstairs.”

“Please do, Rosie dear,” Queenie smiled, “I’ll make the tea.” She moved to the kitchen as if the house was hers, and Rose shook her head fondly before heading to the basement stairs.

She yelled at Newt to come up with his ‘Charlie’s Angels’, and even though he wouldn’t get the reference, when he came back up, Tina, Bunty and Nagini were effectively with him.

They all sat down around the dining table, looking at Queenie expectantly, not really sure what they had to tell them all.

“Queens,” Tina said after a moment, visibly impatient, “if you don’t tell us right this instant, I’m going to scream.”

The blonde smiled and chuckled, grabbing her husband’s hand. They both had misty eyes, and their grins were huge and beautiful to behold. “Jacob and I, we have gone to the doctor’s this morning.”

Tina’s eyes widened, worry passing through for a second before she must have realised that, if the news was bad, her sister wouldn’t be beaming. “And?”

“And it turns out that…we are expecting…twins!”

Bunty was the first to shake off her surprise to squeal in glee. She placed her hand in front of her mouth to stop the nervous laughter that bubbled there, but soon, she wasn’t the only one with a curious case of the giggles. Tina leapt from her chair to hug her sister, her laugh loud and welcome. Newt’s smile was toothy and happier than ever. Nagini’s own tender laughter was endearing. And Rose felt lighter and happier than she had in weeks…

“Twins!” Tina said again. “Well, good luck Jacob!”

The baker laughed, then apparently realised that, with a witch as a wife, there was a high chance that at least one of his children would be magical as well. He suddenly lost all colour in his face, which made everyone laugh harder at his expense…

* * *

Instead of going straight to Saint Mungo’s later that day, Rose decided to honour a meeting that she had postponed for long enough. She’d sent a quick Patronus – it had been harder than ever before to conjure the lioness – and headed to Diagon Alley and one of its many teashops to wait for an infamous wizard.

Albus Dumbledore was, in his own account, never late. Rose supposed that, one day, he’d say that he ‘arrived precisely when he meant to’. It would have made her laugh, once upon a time, to think those words. But then, sat in a private corner of this tearoom, surrounded by chatter and too many people for comfort, she wasn’t sure she’d laugh like that again.

“Miss Rose,” the future Headmaster announced when he arrived. As soon as he’d sat down, he cast a Silencing Charm around them, one that Rose doubled with a _Muffliato_.

“Professor,” she said, monotone. “I’m sorry it took me so long to agree to meeting you.”

“I understand why you didn’t feel up to it, Rose, don’t worry.” His blue piercing eyes turned a shade of worried. “How are you faring?”

“I’d say ‘better’, but I’m not sure. I keep having nightmares, and waking up to burning limbs and the lingering feeling of being watched…”

He nodded, pitying her, she knew, but not judging her, which she was thankful for. “If you require anything from Hogwarts’ Infirmary, or from its professors, you know you only have to ask.”

She nodded back, lips pursed. “Thank you.”

“Now,” he sighed, “I won’t beat around the bush any longer. I’ve broken the Blood Pact.”

Rose’s eyes widened in shock. She’d been serious when she’d told Newt that she intended to help Dumbledore break the Pact herself, in memory of Leta and to avenge Theseus’ state. She probably shouldn’t have underestimated the wizard’s power, come to think of it. The hope that bloomed into her irises when she understood the whole ramifications of such a news, though, was all-encompassing. “Are you going after him?”

Dumbledore’s eyes bore into her. He checked his charm, as if what was going to follow was a secretive affair. Rose soon understood why. “I need to know some things first.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Such as?”

“Rose, in your time, when am I supposed to go after him?” Again, she showed surprise, and he countered with a quick “I can read between the lines. The way you’ve been acting around me, alluding to some things from your past and my future… I’m the one to defeat him, am I not?”

She gritted her teeth, unsure as to what to answer to that. The truth, she found, was the better option in this case. “You are. You defeat him in 1945. In an epic duel that History of Magic classes talk about for decades after.”

He chuckled darkly. “I don’t really care about the fame it would bring me. I’m more interested in why 1945.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We never learnt about what happened before. Only that he came to power around 1930, that he helped some bad events occur in the Muggle world, and that you beat him in 1945.”

“Do you think that, in that timeline, I’d have broken the Blood Pact later than 1928?”

Rose stared at him. She knew what this conversation was about now. He was wondering how much of her past had already been altered, and how much they could still alter, for the better. She daren’t think ‘For the Greater Good’, although that was the sentiment, somehow.

She’d had her reservations, before. When she’d saved Queenie and understood that she hadn’t been supposed to do that, she’d almost been broken with the thought of having destroyed her family, with the thought that, maybe, she’d stopped her parents, her brother from ever existing. Now, however, after having suffered at the hand of Grindelwald personally, she wasn’t sure she cared. Not if she had, by procuration, the power to stop him hurting any more people before he was supposed to be stopped.

That’s why, at long last, she said “I don’t think you were supposed to break it now, no. But you have. What are you going to do with that knowledge, now?”

Dumbledore’s piercing eyes kept boring into her. “You said he came to power in 1930?”

“That’s when he’d rallied enough people to his cause that the whole of Europe, and part of America and Asia, were aflame. Muggles and Muggleborns murdered in plain sight, propaganda plastered everywhere, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows painted on every wall like a warning…”

He gasped when she’d said those two words. She’d edged around them before, knowing fully well about his childhood obsession for the three famed items, but unwilling to rekindle it.

She didn’t let him question her on that, and carried on. “If you can stop it all from happening, or if there is the slightest chance that you can slow him down, make sure he harms less people than he’s supposed to, then you have to do it. You can’t stay back with the knowledge of what will happen. You don’t have the right to.”

Flames started creeping in his gaze, now. “Rose, you are asking me to change the future.”

“I am asking you to _save innocent lives_. I am asking you to go after your lover, and to stop him.” Because she felt like this lingering sentiment was holding him back, she added “You don’t need to kill him. You didn’t, in my time. He died in Nurmengard in 1998.” She didn’t say what killed him. It wasn’t necessary to dwell on that now…

More questions seemed to creep in Dumbledore’s mind, but he didn’t voice them. Sighing, he repeated “I can’t change _15 years_ , Rose…”

Anger rose in her veins, then. Impulsively, she placed her hand on top of the small table, palm up. “I’ll make you swear, if I have to, Albus Dumbledore.” She had never used his given name before, and it made him look up from her proffered hand in surprise. “’For the Greater Good’, remember? That was your motto, when you were an idealistic young man. Well, right now, I’m asking you, not to kill Grindelwald, not even to run head first into a trap, but just to swear to me that you’ll go after him, and that you’ll do your utter best to stop him _before_ 1945.”

It seemed like her offer – or rather, her threat – hit him hard. Pain was visible in his features. Rose wondered if she’d ever experience herself the kind of love and passion that he had had with Grindelwald; a love and passion that still plagued him enough that he was unwilling to go after him, to betray the feelings he still held in high regard.

Slowly, Albus Dumbledore placed his hand in Rose’s, held his wand up above them both, and uttered the words that sealed his Unbreakable Vow. “I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear to you, Rose Scamander-Granger-Weasley, that I will go after Gellert Grindelwald before the year is over. That I will try my utmost best to stop him before 1945. That I will make sure that fewer lives than you have known are destroyed by his hand.” Thin slithers of gold magic bounds their hands and wrists together, remaining visible even after the spell was over.

They released each other’s hand, and stared each other down for a few moments longer.

Then, Rose lifted her wand, dropped the _Muffliato_ , and breathed a deep “Care for some tea, Professor?”.


	45. Epilogue - All will be well

Dumbledore did well on his promise, and took leave from Hogwarts at the end of the schoolyear to help the Ministry in its search for Grindelwald. Tina would often see him alongside Travers, and would report anything new to her friends. Rose was content that the Professor whose name her cousin shared was honouring his promise. At any rate, the thin golden scars that still adorned her hand and wrist were proof he had little choice in fulfilling it.

In July 1928, Tina Goldstein moved in with Newton Scamander in his small house. They’d started officially dating a few weeks prior, but the magizoologist had had to be gently nudged by his sister to ask the lovely Auror out, at long last. Rose took Tina’s move in as her cue to start looking for a house for herself, which she’d bought with her share of the book’s selling. Unsurprisingly, it was as much a success as Newt’s first book, and she was stunned to learn that Saint Mungo’s considered using it in its Healer training program in yet another change from ‘her’ History.

On the 10th of the same month, Theseus Scamander was released out of Saint Mungo’s after his episodes had dropped to one a month, with promises to check in once every eight weeks to look at his progress.

Rose went to collect him while Newt, Tina, an ever-bulging Queenie and Jacob prepared the house for his arrival, as he’d be staying with his brother for the time-being.

* * *

She’d passed through the barrier, bowing at the mannequin she’d seen countless times before, when she stumbled into a young girl wearing black robes with dark hair and blue eyes. A woman, who must have been her mother, was standing nearby, talking animatedly with another.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Rose said, making sure the girl wasn’t hurt. “Are you alright?”

The girl’s blue eyes met hers, and the pursed lips that Rose usually identified as a Slytherin trait appeared on her youthful face. “I’m fine. But you should look where you are going.”

Rose chuckled darkly. Slytherins never failed to be little twats, no matter the era…

She had a retort ready on her lips – one of the kinds that shouldn’t be said to a child – when the girl’s mother called “Cedrella! Come here, child!” and she froze, surprised beyond measure.

“Cedrella?” she repeated, and the girl looked at her from where she’d already taken a step towards her mother.

“That’s my name,” she answered haughtily. “Cedrella Black.” She turned away, leaving a stunned Rose in her wake.

Well…she’d just ‘met’ her great-grandmother. How sweet.

* * *

Theseus was discharged with many a warning and a collection of vials that Rose held onto and that he had to keep taking for a few weeks more. He wasn’t stumbling on his two feet, but had visibly lost some strength in the time he’d spent in a hospital bed. Several months, after all.

Rose held his arm as they walked leisurely through London. He couldn’t Apparate yet, not even in a Side-Along, for fear of Splinching, so walking it was.

Coming face to face with a member of her family, albeit one she had never met before, was enlightening to Rose. And Theseus must have felt the gears turning in her head, for he soon questioned her about it. “What are you thinking about?”

She met his grey-green eyes with a small smile he returned. They’d shared several fond looks in those last months, even if they had only been that: fond looks. Maybe she wanted that to change… “I was thinking that I’m never going to go back to 2026. And I’m okay with it.”

She looked around her at 1928 London. It had occurred to her a few times before that day that she would, in all probability, never be able to go back to the future she’d grown up in. And it was a good thing, she had realised, because so many things had already been altered that she daren’t think how what kind of future she’d find there…

She sighed, focussing back on the present and on her companion. “I’m going to make a life for myself here. I’m going to settle down, stop looking back at what might have been. I’m going to be happy, and,” she looked at him once more, “and I’d like to be happy _with you_.”

His eyes widened, and he faltered in his steps, prompting her to stop too. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, feeling braver and bolder than she had since she’d realised she’d fallen for him, “I mean that I’d like for us not to be brother and sister. Not that we’ve ever been, not really. So, I’d like for you and I to get to know each other better. Because I like you a lot, Theseus Scamander, and not like a sister should.”

There was a hint of a wondrous smile on his lips, but he refrained from it, instead contemplating her offer, and staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “I…I don’t think I like you as a brother should either, Rose.” This time he smiled. “I think I’ve started liking you more after Queenie and Jacob’s wedding. So…I’d like to get to know you better as well.”

They stared at each other like that, smile on their faces, feeling like teenagers with a crush, but they didn’t kiss. After all, this was 1928. First kisses were better reserved for behind closed doors, not buzzing Muggle streets.

Instead, Rose slid her hand down his arm, and linked their fingers together.

Theseus smiled at her, one of those she hadn’t seen since Leta was alive, and reminiscing about the brunette made her think in triumph that she’d done it, that she’d helped Theseus love again…

* * *

Later, that evening, when she sat down at the small desk in her bedroom in her own house – opposite Newt’s, she didn’t want to be too far – Rose opened a small notebook, and wrote her own promise to the future:

‘ _In 1926 was born the Darkest Wizard that the world will ever know. His name today is still Tom Riddle, but one day, it’ll be Lord Voldemort. I know where he is. I know what will happen if I leave him in that orphanage. I will find him, and take him to a caring family that will show him what love can be._

_My Uncle Harry will know his parents. My parents will not have to go on the hunt for the darkest magical object of all. My Uncle George will grow old with his twin brother Fred. Teddy will grow with his parents by his side._

_All will be well._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you again for the love you've shown me, and for the way you've been lifting me up these past months.  
> I've decided to leave this story with a hopeful note. Maybe I'll write a sequel one day, perhaps after the third movie is out. Who knows. Rose isn't done being her own kind of badass despite her wounds and trauma; and she and Theseus will help each other heal slowly but assuredly. :)  
> See you soon, fellow Harry Potter fans! Remus is asking for my help finding him a new OC, so I won't get too far. :P


End file.
